


Don't You Forget About Me

by KyeTamm



Category: Life Is Strange (Video Game)
Genre: Amnesia, F/F, Near Future
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-26
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-06-04 14:23:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6662380
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KyeTamm/pseuds/KyeTamm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Max chose to save Arcadia Bay at the cost of Chloe Price's life. But Chloe's death has made it hard for Max to get her life back in order. Finally, a year later, after months of steady therapy and recovery, Max believes she may be starting to get over the harrowing episode. </p><p>But then she runs into a certain blue-haired punk in a local Californian music store who looks and sounds exactly like "her", and every memory comes rushing back. Max is certain of it; Chloe's alive. But at what cost? </p><p>Could this be Max's second chance? A dream come true?</p><p>Or could it be another storm? A sick nightmare come to life?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been dying to write a Pricefield fic for ages now. The pairing's infested my every feeling and thought, and it's a little unhealthy, yes, but whatever, they've been good to me. 
> 
> After reading a bunch of other Pricefield fics, I realized with crushing sadness that most of them include a Max who's either completely broken after having sacrificed Arcadia Bay, or just lost and confused after losing Chloe. MOST of them are the former. And it depresses me to read about Max being all messed up and... unMax-like. I mean, I get it. Losing Arcadia Bay... That's rough. But I wanted to try something where neither Max nor Chloe are necessarily broken down. They're... sad, sure, but they're not just dying, you know? They're not just waiting for the day they lose their sanity. 
> 
> So anyways, I hope you enjoy this! And I hope you stick around till the end! It was, originally, just supposed to be a one-shot. But it ended up getting spread across five chapters. I'll post daily, since there're so little chapters.
> 
> Enjoy! ^^
> 
> #Pricefieldislife

Max takes a breath, eyes shut against the light touch of the summer Californian breeze, hands twisted before her over an umber-yellow retro polaroid camera pointed absently at the ocean. She feels her body shiver against the cold, but more than that, against its familiarity.

California.

The irony of the place doesn't escape her.

With a smile, she opens her eyes. The view is incredible. Her friends back home would love it. Kate would've done _anything_ to be here with her, standing opposite the glistering ocean, enjoying the sun and the sand, and the company, of course. Warren would appreciate it too, despite his lack of interest in the very concept of the outdoors. But the person she wishes was here the most, despite the very memory burning holes into her tightening chest, is Chloe.

Today is the one year anniversary of her death.

Max remembers. She remembers, and she will _never_ forget. Their whole adventure, the time-traveling, the kidnapping, the multiple, gut-wrenching deaths, the feelings, the laughter, the love – God, she'd have to be brain-swapped to ever forget about that. It's always been at the forefront of her mind, barreling through all the other bullshit, making itself the only thing presentable in the cluster of her thoughts. She loved her. God, did Max love her. She would've done anything for her, _anything_ , she would've even sacrificed the town if it wasn't for– for–

Sighing, Max runs her fingers through her hair. She shouldn't be thinking about this. It's been a year. She's been trying to move on. She's been trying to live her life without the thought of suicide screaming at her from every corner. It's been a consideration since a week after Chloe's funeral. She thought she could handle it, Max genuinely _thought_ she could handle her death but– Shit, it was too much. Her absence felt like a part of her had been ripped out. The part of her that functioned properly, that felt properly. Now all she can feel is the wistful touch of abandonment and loneliness. But it shouldn't be like this, should it? She shouldn't have to feel so... shitty for the rest of her life.

She raises the polaroid to her eye, watching the view through her lens finder.

Click.

A beautiful view.

Max smiles, thinking of Chloe for the last time. She promises, despite everything, she'll try to live a normal life again...

For her.

 

* * *

 

At midday, Max makes her way to the Treble Grounds to get her guitar fixed. The string's been busted for a month and she never found the time to replace it because of everything going on. Believe it or not, she's a freelance photographer. Working, of course, exclusively, for a private company that publishes daily pick-me-ups in the local paper. It isn't a major business but she's taking baby steps. After what happened with Chloe– It's just... hard to get back up on your feet again after watching the person who matters to you most get struck by a bullet.

She shifts the strap of her guitar case around her body, adjusting it so that she doesn't topple over when she parks her bike by the alleyway beside the Treble Grounds.

 _Clumsy Max never changes,_ she thinks. _But at least I can balance myself this time._

She makes her way into the secluded little shop wedged in between a coffee cafe and a bookstore, looking over the bright neon sign hanging overhead with jutted spikes sticking out of its edges. The place was originally a 'rock n' roll' only zone, according to a friend of hers who recommended the place, but overtime, it adapted and became versatile. They cater to all kinds of musicians now, although they kept the rock punk style.

“Classy.” Max mutters, smiling as she steps into the edgy store.

Posters hang about in different locations, portraying album covers and concert tickets of different musicians from different eras in time, some completely and unabashedly hardcore, and some simply homily, sitting by a bench with an acoustic guitar over their laps. The feel of this place is... different. It feels nice. Comfortable. She whips her camera out and takes a photo despite herself. The second the shutter sounds, she hears a voice from the back room.

“Woah, is someone actually in our store right now?” Then a laugh. “Shit, it must be our lucky day.”

_That voice._

Max feels her throat go dry and heart pick up speed.

 _No. No, it can't be. What the fuck_ – _She's_ – _She can't be here. She can't. She's dea_ – _No, no, no, what am I saying? Come on, Max, it's probably just somebody with... the same voice as her. It's not that big a deal!_

She shakes her head, clearing her thoughts. She buries her camera in her bag and hefts the guitar case over her head, placing it gently over the counter.

_Just– Just don't talk to her much. Don't think about her voice. Don't even stay! Tell her what you need and get the hell out of here._

The woman steps out of the little enclosure leading to the back room, cladded in boots, ripped jeans and a white tank top. A playful smile lingers on her beautiful pink lips, light eyebrow cocked upwards and eyes sparkling mischievously against the dim lighting of the tenebrous expanse. She leans forward against the counter, adjusting the beanie atop her blue-dyed hair, and eyes Max with an intensity she has only ever dreamt about since exactly a year ago today.

It's her.

It's her standing right in front of her, exactly how she left her.

_Holy shit._

Max's jaw hangs slack for a few seconds before she clamps it shut, staring unblinkingly into the nightmare she has created. This can't be another one of reality's sick games. It _can't_ be.

The girl furrows her brows, leaning forward. “You okay, dude?”

Max holds in a barf. She whirls around and races out of the store, bursting through the front doors with a sharp intake of breath. With her palm pressed against a cement wall, she leans over and forces the hot dog she had for lunch back down her throat, eyes shut so tight white dots start attacking her from behind her eyelids. Her chest is tight, her stomach is heavy as lead – this feels like hell, holy _shit_. She can hardly breathe, hardly process what's happening. It's her. It's undeniably her – the stance, the look, the smile, the voice, the clothes – _everything_.

What the _fuck_ is the world trying to do to her?

She hears the door open, then footsteps approaching her quickly. With admirable strength, she pulls herself together and stand rigidly straight as a hand clasps her on the shoulder.

“Hey, what the hell? You alright?” _She_ steps into her line of view, eyes clouded with concern. She has an eyebrow cocked, and she's obviously extremely weirded out by Max's trauma, but she cares. There, in her eyes. She _cares_. Max can feel the energy leave her body like liquid, and in a second her knees give way and she falls to the ground, but two arms wrap themselves around her back before she hits the pavement, sheltering her from the impact.

Max stiffens. She's in her arms again.

Holy _fuck_ , this _is_ a nightmare.

“Hey! Hey, look at me! Don't pass out! You're alright, it's gonna be okay, okay? Shit.” The girl curses, fumbling around with her words like she has no idea what the hell is going on. In her defense, she actually doesn't. But... Does that mean she doesn't know who Max is, after everything they've been through? She withers at the thought.

“I'm–” Max pauses, her words getting caught in her throat. What the hell is she supposed to say?

“Alright, shut up for now.” _She_ practically demands, heaving her up with a loud intake of breath. She carries her back into the store, badass and all, without a single question as to why her customer had suddenly rushed out and semi-fainted as if she grew four ears and a wing. Max hesitates. She can feel her heartbeat pressing against her arm, loud and clear and... and real. She's alive _._

She sets her down on a sofa in the back, gently, cautiously, as if she's a fragile artifact that, once broken, can't ever be fixed again. Taking a step back, she releases a light sigh and crosses her toned arms across her chest, looking over at Max thoughtfully. There's a question on her face, but there's worry in her eyes.

“Can you talk?” She asks, a little abruptly.

Of course, what else does Max expect? Chloe's always been forward.

_No, but this isn't Chloe!_

_It could be. How would you know if you never asked?_

_Chloe's_ dead _! I watched her get shot, I_ saw _her get buried. She's_ –

_Stranger things have happened._

Max sucks in a breath, unwilling to believe the irony. Time-travel is definitely not a _normal_ occurrence in somebody's life. But neither is rising from the dead. And this is– this is too much. This can't possibly be the same person she saw get put into a fucking coffin!

…Can it?

Only one way to find out.

“Yes.” Max whispers, softly. She pushes herself up on her elbows, fidgeting at the pain still evident in her chest. Nausea and unease still wracks her with every movement, but the startling realization helps soothe the trauma. Seeing Chloe just... standing there hurts, yes, but... if she somehow... came _back_ from the dead, then...

“Um,” Chloe jabs her thumb over her shoulder, gesturing to the coffee maker sitting idly by on the wooden desk a few feet away. “You want water? Coffee? I think we got, what, like, a pancake or something lying around somewhere?” She shrugs. “I can whip you some eggs. I mean, they're not the best but with a stove like the one we have, it's the best we can do, y'know.”

_God, she even talks like her._

_Because she_ is _her._

Max swallows, finally mustering up enough strength to completely sit up. She folds her hands over her lap, fidgeting. “N-No, thank you. I, uh, thanks, but–” Max inwardly curses herself for being such a major dork. “I'm fine. I just– I had a panic attack or something, I guess.” She laughs unconvincingly, which only intensifies the concern written all over Chloe's face. So, out of sheer adrenaline, she looks up into her eyes and asks, “what's your name?”

_Not creepy at all, Caulfield._

Eyebrow still raised, she lets a corner of her lip quirk upwards. “Chloe.” She says. “Chloe Price.”

Max feels the air leave her very lungs.

“Chloe?”

“Um,” Chloe shrugs. “Yeah.”

“Chloe.”

“Y-Yeah, that's me.”

“You don't–” Max winces. “You don't remember me?”

Chloe purses her lips, brows knitted in thought. She takes a step back and leans into herself, looking closer into Max's blue eyes. “Am I... supposed to?”

_Yes._

Her head feels like it's going to explode. And her chest– Shit, she can barely breathe. Everything is barreling at her at once and there's absolutely no room for oxygen. She stands up, but the darkness takes her sight, and for one horrible moment, she's reminded of being strapped down in a chair, drugged and alone, surrounded by blinding lights and a psychopath with a camera. She blinks, and suddenly her butt's planted back on the sofa, breath raspy and uneven.

“Dude, you look seriously messed up right now. I'm gonna– I'm gonna get you some water, okay?” Chloe makes a move to turn, but on instinct, Max reaches out to grab her wrist, to stop her. The second their skin makes contact, she feels a jolt so intense snake up her arm she's forced to immediately pull away.

Max's face goes pale.

 _She's_ – _She's warm._

“No, it's okay!” She exclaims, voice unevenly pitched. “I'm, um, I'm gonna go. I just– I just wanted to get my guitar fixed c-cause its strings are broken and–” She shakes her head, taking small, sideways steps to the front door. “I'll just– I'll just leave it here and come back tomorrow or something.”

Chloe hesitates and attempts to go after her, but seeing as to how she's reacting whenever she tries, she eventually just stays rooted to her spot. “Wait! I need a name or something, I can't just–”

“Max. Max Caulfield.” Max says in a blur, flinching as her trembling hand touches the back of the counter. She whirls around, startled, and makes long strides to the front door. Chloe calls out to her, but just the sound of her voice saying her name again is– God, and she doesn't even remember. She doesn't remember her. She doesn't remember _anything_.

Max bursts through the front doors and stumbles into the alleyway, picking up her bike and accidentally dropping it on the ground with a clatter before cursing and trying again. She pedals her way downtown, eyes glazing through traffic and mind barely intact. Her heart's still racing and picking up speed the more she thinks about it, but the further she bikes, the longer she's away from _her_ , the more obvious the truth becomes in her one-track mind. After everything that's happened, it would be hazardous to experience another nightmare come to life. It would be suicidal to go through the tornado in Arcadia Bay all over again. But Chloe's here. And she's alive. And if Max were given her consequential, uncontrollable time-travel powers for a reason, then Chloe was given a second chance in life for a reason too. Even if she doesn't know it yet.

Max narrows her gaze against the beaming sun, and with her heart slowing to match her low breathing, she decides on her course of action. On her next move.

She loves her. God, even now, despite everything, she loves her so fucking much.

She'll always be there for Chloe, no matter what. 

With or without her memories.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to all who gave this story a kudos and commented! It means so much to me, really. 
> 
> I forgot to mention in the beginning that this whole fic is large and fundamentally influenced by Koethe's Life is Strange-inspired songs. They seriously touched a deep part in me. In a completely non-kinky way. 
> 
> Also, if you wanna check out other great Life is Strange stories, check out 'Better Then' by IsraelBlargh and 'what we make' by cjwritergal. They're my personal favorites. 
> 
> Alright, to the story!

**CHAPTER TWO**

 

Max takes a deep breath. And then another one. And then another one, just for kicks.

_Calm down, girl. You're just picking up your guitar._

_And, quite possibly, making friends with your ex-BFF and love of your life who doesn't remember you despite you having gone on time-traveling adventures together to save Arcadia Bay from the monster also known as Mark Jefferson._

Max still shivers at the thought of him. God, she can't believe she once had a crush on the guy. It's... nauseating. Shaking her head, she presses her palm against the front door and pushes her way inside. This time, she's ready. She spent the entire night preparing, looking over pictures, mementos. There's got to be _something_ that Chloe remembers. Maybe a blast from the past will get her memory jogging again. It's a stupid thought but– Max'll go for anything right now.

“Hello?” She half-whispers, looking around the room for any signs of life.

_Welcome to post-apocalyptic world, Max Caulfield. It's Episode 2: The return of Zombie Price._

She rolls her eyes at herself, deciding that maybe it was about time to quit being such a major dork. She is 19 now, after all. Another step closer to being a full-fledged adult. Her whole life, she'd been dreading the responsibility. Well, not her whole life. She and Chloe, back when they were 14 and carefree, would talk the night away about what they would do once they were old enough to fend for themselves. They'd build an actual pirate fort together, made of cement and bricks this time, instead of pillows and blankets. Then, if they run out of cash, they'd simply fight off bandits and the likes to steal their plunder for themselves. Their idea was, clearly, foolproof.

But plans fell through.

Because Max left and came back and got time-traveling powers.

Oh, and, of course, Chloe died.

“Hey,” Max jumps at the sound, whirling around to meet the voice of her best friend, dressed in the same punk style, wearing the same punk hairdo. “Max... Caulfield, right?” Chloe smiles, wiping her hands dry with an old, beige towel.

Max nods, willing herself to be confident, willing herself to look at Chloe the same way she looked at her before the tornado hit, before Jefferson kidnapped her, before everything. And then her heart aches unintentionally. God, she missed her _so_ much. “Yeah, um, sorry about the freak-out yesterday, I–” She laughs awkwardly, scratching the back of her head. “I just... knew someone who looked and talked _exactly_ like you.” _And has your name, and wears the same clothing, and acts the same_ – _Oh shit wait, you_ are _her._

Chloe drops the towel on the counter and grins. “Oh yeah? Sounds like this someone was pretty important, considering the way you blacked out and all.”

Max bites her lip. “Well, she died about a year ago.”

Chloe's face immediately drops. “Oh shit. Fuck, sorry. I didn't mean– Goddamnit, Zack always said I run my mouth like a fucking motor.”

“No, no! It's fine.” Max smiles warmly, relishing in the feel of Chloe's presence once again. “After the way you took care of me yesterday... I feel like you can say anything and I'd still be in your debt.”

Chloe laughs, shaking her head. “Come on dude, as if I could just leave a cute girl unconscious by the sidewalk outside. Zack, my boss, would _kill_ me, for one, and two, I'm actually not as heartless and uncaring as I seem to look.”

Putting aside the fact that she called Max _cute,_ she also seems to lack a pressing quality in the original Chloe that doesn't... seem to exist in this Chloe at all.

Her depression.

It was obvious the first time round, but Max hadn't notice it due to her severe hyperventilating. Now, seeing her again, watching her as closely as she is, it's almost screaming at her to notice it's absence. It wasn't a defining quality, but it was definitely a significant one. Chloe was angry at the world because of her dad, because of Rachel, God, because of fucking Nathan and Jefferson. She was angry at everybody. Even Max, in the beginning, which she understands completely. But this Chloe? She doesn't seem to have an angry bone in her body. Which makes Max wonder what else she forgot. What else she could've possibly missed.

“Still,” Max says, softly, deliberately. She takes a step forward and leans against the dark, polished counter. “I'd like to make it up to you. Maybe with a coffee or...?”

A mischievous smile paints Chloe's face. The sight makes Max's heart do flips. “It kinda sounds like you're asking me out on a date, Max Caulfield.”

Max goes all deer in the headlights.

_Oh God, it_ does _sound like that, doesn't it?_

“Oh, but don't get me wrong, I'm not against the idea or anything like that.” She laughs, pressing her cheek against the palm of her hand. “It's just that the last time I saw you, we didn't really get off on the right foot. You _did_ think I was your, um, dead friend and all.”

_Correction, you_ are _my dead friend and all_. Max thinks awkwardly, shifting between feet, staring at the tiled ground to keep from looking into Chloe's eyes. This is so surreal. It feels like some sick joke to be able to talk to Chloe like this, as if they hadn't even met all those years ago. As if nothing had happened. Max feels her anxiety come back up as if to submerge her in water, but she keeps her head high to keep from drowning, to keep from falling. She will not fail Chloe this time. Not ever again.

“That's why I wanna make it up to you.” Max says. “What time do you get off?”

Chloe glances at the analog over her head. “Well, my lunch break's at 12, if that's what you're asking. Half an hour to do whatever the hell I want,” She catches Max's eye and winks. “With whoever the hell I want.”

Max blinks.

_Okay, this is so bizarre._ “Um...”

“Relax.” Chloe chuckles. “I'm kidding.” She pauses, before adding, “sorta.”

Max fumbles around with her thoughts, drawing in the ones that sound the least creepy and most prone to success. Unfortunately for her, she's always had a knack for confusing success with failure. “There's a donut cafe next door if you wanna–” She pauses, registering Chloe's darkening expression. “I'm guessing you've been there?”

“For the first two weeks after I started working here. _Every_ day at lunch I'd get a different kind of donut.” She says, shrugging. “It ruled for a while but the redundancy just killed off the vibe, you know? Got kinda sick of it after that.”

“Okay,” Max laughs it off, still unaccustomed to the familiarity of this whole conversation. She's in over her head, but holy fuck, just the sight of Chloe again – just being able to hear her _voice_ again – it makes Max question all sorts of things about herself. Like her sanity, for one. “Well, how about the Sizzling Diner down the street? I heard they make the _best_ bacon and eggs this side of the city.”

Chloe laughs. Max's heart does a somersault at the very sound of it. “Bacon and eggs for lunch? I'll bite.” She pauses to collect her thoughts, before softly adding, “It's my favorite kind of breakfast. So I can't say no to that.”

_It_ is _Chloe._ Relief floods Max's insides. She knew it beforehand but this confirms it. All she has to do now is remind her of all the things she loved – sorry, _loves_ – and then, slowly, who knows? Maybe she'll remember everything. Maybe she won't. Either way... This _is_ the Chloe Max fell in love with. She's sure of it. Whatever the hell's happening, whether this is some sick joke or just a twisted nightmare, she honestly believes that she doesn't mind the deception, that she can live her life in peace if she never woke up. That she could be happy to be in here... With Chloe.

“Alright.” Max whispers, restraining her grin. “So 12 at the Sizzling Dinner it is.”

Chloe grins, placing a hand on her hip. “It's a date, Max Caulfield.”

 

* * *

 

Max steps into the diner at 11.55 sharp. Five minutes early is honestly the _latest_ she can go. She spent about an hour just browsing through the bookstore next to Treble Grounds, and even then, she could barely focus on anything she read. All she could think about, all she could see and hear and feel, was Chloe. So, surrendering to her futile attempt at directing her attention elsewhere, she decided to just take a stroll down the street before entering the Sizzling Diner. By now, she's worked up quite an appetite. She smiles, inhaling the wonderful scent of bacon and eggs and pancakes and coffee. She's been to a few diners since Arcadia Bay, but she's tried her best to avoid ones that look like an oversized RV, including this one. She _knew_ that the Sizzling Diner was as close to Two Whales as she can get, that's why she recommended it. Because it's a place of familiarity. And if Chloe can feel it, then there _is_ hope somewhere.

She grabs a booth by the back and tucks herself comfortably in between the seat and the table. Grabbing the menu, she scans through a variety of foods before raising a hand. She orders bacon and eggs, as promised, for her absent friend, and a club sandwich for herself, knowing that she probably wouldn't be able to finish it. And Chloe definitely would.

About six minutes later, Chloe comes rushing through the door, panting as if she dashed all the way here. She looks around, fixing her tousled hair underneath her blue beanie before adjusting it back on. As soon as her eyes land on Max, her face breaks into a grin. And it is in this moment that Max's body melts into a puddle of happiness. _God,_ _it's such a rush to see her smiling at me again._

“Max!” She calls out, arms extended. She slides into the seat opposite her, a motion that Max remembers from when she still had her powers. “Sorry I'm late. Zack came in late and he was pissed because I left the refrigerator door open again but holy shit, news flash, I left it open for like, five minutes. The shit's not gonna cost fifty bucks if I leave it open for five minutes, will it?” She shakes her head, unsatisfied. “Anyways, I'm starving. You decided on what you gonna get yet?”

Max nods. “I've actually already ordered for the both of us.”

“Sweet!” Chloe chuckles, leaning casually against the seat. “If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were my long lost twin or something.”

_Or something, more like._ Max looks at her hands, open on her lap. They're trembling. _Calm down, Mad Max. Just... calm down. Chloe's here, and she doesn't remember anything. Just... Talk to her. Get to know her again. Get her to know_ you.

“So Chloe,” Max says, looking up. “Have you lived here all your life?”

_Start slow, start simple. Find out more about what she knows. Genius, Max._

Chloe shrugs, leaning in. “It's... complicated, I guess?”

Max waits a beat, wondering if she was gonna continue. She doesn't.

_Way to start simple._

“Alright, well, what about your parents?”

Chloe looks away. “Um, they're– I mean, I don't really wanna get into that.” She smiles sheepishly. “If that's okay with you.”

_Okay, Max. You're clearly in trouble here. Mission abort._

“O-Okay, yeah.” Max attempts to laugh it off but, thankfully, as if saved by some magical force in the universe (probably that damn blue butterfly), the waitress comes over to hand them their food. She repeats the order, then asks if they would like anything else. Max politely refuses while Chloe throws her a lazy smile. As soon as she's gone, they start digging in. Max has to hold in a laugh. Chloe's ravenous when it comes to food. She isn't exactly... messy, neither is she completely and uncontrollably uncivilized. But when she works up an appetite, she can go all night.

Max looks down at the burger in her hands, now missing two bites at the edges, and flinches. She sets it back down, before picking up a fry instead. Chloe, surprisingly, notices this.

“Not hungry?”

“N-No, I am. I'm just... saving it.”

She doesn't look convinced, but she doesn't push it. Instead she presses her elbows against the table and leans forward, all detective-like. Her long form makes it easy for her to bend almost an inch away from Max's face. The proximity makes her blush, but that's the _least_ of her problems. “Alright, your turn. Where've you been all my life?”

Max knows this was meant as a joke, but the words press into her heart as if with blazing iron. She keeps herself from wincing, but apparently the effect is evident on her face, because Chloe withdraws.

“Woah, joke.”

“No, I know, sorry.” Max shakes her head. _Get it together, Max._ “I'm, uh, I'm from Arcadia Bay, Oregon. Born and raised. I moved to Seattle with my parents when I was 14. Then I kind of came back for about a year. And now...”

“Now you're here.” Chloe finishes for her.

Max nods. “I do photography.” She raises the polaroid camera hidden in her bag. “Part of the reason I went back to Arcadia Bay. Blackwell Academy had an exceptional photography program.”

“Yeah? No wonder you were snapping pics yesterday.” Chloe muses. “Almost nobody ever gives a shit about how the shop actually looks, even though I stare and marvel at its design for hours in a day.” She laughs to herself, almost self-consciously, and for a moment, Max is taken back to a time when it was just her and Chloe, lounging casually atop rusted railway tracks as if they didn't have a care in the word. “I know it sounds dorky, but, I don't know, that place is like home to me.”

Max wants to sympathize. She does. But that shouldn't be where Chloe considers home. It should be in Arcadia Bay. With her.

“So, um, anything exciting in Arcadia Bay?” Chloe asks cheekily, taking a bite out of her bacon.

_Well, let's see, I had time-traveling powers the moment I came home, a mentally unstable rich kid was working for a psychopathic photography teacher and they both plotted to trick female students into getting drugged and getting their pictures taken inappropriately, and, let's see, I had to choose between destroying the entire town with a giant fucking storm or destroying the person I love the most, AKA you._

“No,” Max says simply. “Not really.” She eats a fry. “Well, I mean, I had a really cool best friend there.”

“Yeah? What happened to her?” Chloe finishes off the rest of her bacon, and so, casually, and all too subtly, Max pushes her plate forward as an offering. Chloe eyes the offering like a lion would eye a zebra. She's definitely not gonna say no to that.

“Well, I –I did a shitty thing and, uh, kinda left her when I was 14. It was right after her dad died too...” She pauses, contemplating what she should reveal next. “We lost contact and for five years, we barely talked...”

“Well, this is kind of a sad story.” Chloe remarks, offering a sympathetic smile. Max wants her to reach out and grab her hand, to console her, to reassure her that she doesn't blame her anymore for leaving her all those years ago. She still feels horrible about it despite it all. But Chloe doesn't reach out, she doesn't console her. And it kills Max to have to sit like this with her knowing the truth, and knowing that Chloe doesn't.

“But when I came back, when we... got back together, she accepted me. Despite everything, she wanted me back in her life. I mean, it was rough at first. She was going through some... hardcore things but I swore I was gonna be there for her this time.” Max glances down at her hands. Still trembling. She balls them into fists. “She was my best friend and she accepted me. And we were happy. We–” Max swallows, realizing that she's said too much. Or rather, her body is telling her to stop, because maybe the memory is too painful to retell. Or maybe it's Chloe's face. Staring at her as if she had just kicked her wounded puppy.

“Max?”

“She died.” Max says, finishing, concluding, digesting. It's still horrible to say it. But saying it to, well, Chloe, is easier. Because there's still hope. Whatever the hell is happening... There's still _hope_. “About a year ago.”

“Shit.” Chloe drops the burger. “So that's who you were talking about. It was that girl you said looked like me.”

Max nods, throwing her a tiny grin. “Sorry I'm dumping all this drama in your lap. I mean, I'm not looking for your sympathy or your pity, I just–” She hesitates, unconsciously staring off into the distance, glazing over an image of her and Chloe shooting old glass bottles in a rusty junkyard, threatening an enraged Frank Bowers with an unloaded gun, and saving Chloe's ass before she was nearly run over by a train. The memories come back in full force, and it takes everything in her to not break down crying.

_Shit, I can't keep this to myself. I_ – _I can't._

“Look, there's something I have to tell you.” Max blurts, placing both hands on the table in front of Chloe. “But you have to– you have to _promise_ not to freak out, okay?”

Chloe forces a nervous smile. “What the hell are you talking about, Max? Don't tell me you're in love with me already?”

_Shit Chloe, if only you knew the half of it._

Max takes a deep breath, before blurting in one smooth motion, “I'm convinced that you're my dead best friend from Arcadia Bay.”

Silence.

“Uh...” Chloe's expression remains relatively passive, although even without telepathy, Max is pretty sure she can see red lights flashing in her head.

“I'm not crazy.” Max deadpans.

Chloe raises her hands. “I didn't say you were!”

“But you were thinking it.”

“No! Well, kinda. Look, this kind of bombshell doesn't get dropped on you everyday, okay? It's a bit shit crazy, if you hadn't realized.”

Max sighs, turning to fumble around in her brown messenger bag. “I can prove it to you.” Her fingers slide around the edges of a metal box and she pulls it out and places it gently on the table. She flips the top open, revealing the little mementos stuffed inside. There's Chloe's panda keychain from when she had to guess everything in her pockets, which she stole (not the keys though, of course) due to sheer selfishness and an unwillingness to let go of her, a lighter that Chloe always used to blaze her cigarettes, her bracelet, her mixtape, and a hundred different little polaroid photos. She plucks one out of the pile, fanning it gently before handing it over.

“This was taken the morning after we broke into Blackwell. We, um, went for a midnight swim? In the pool? You–” Max swallows, running a thumb over the picture as if the action could give her some form of courage. “You were the shark and I was the otter?”

Chloe grimaces, staring solely at the picture in front of her, eyes as wide as saucers. “That's–”

“You.” Max whispers breathlessly.

Chloe pulls away, expression dipped in pure disbelief. “That's impossible.” She stutters, shaking her head. “I don't– I mean, shit, that resemblance is– It's crazy, we have the _exact_ same face!”

“Chloe,” Max mutters, leaning closer across the table. “Her name is Chloe Price too.”

“What?”

“And you have the same voice, and same style, and–”

“Max, what the hell?” Chloe looks like she's gonna implode. “Shit, I can't– I can't be in here right now.”

“W-What?” Max looks startled.

Chloe stands up, knocking her knee against the table and cursing at the pain, but she continues to push herself out of the booth. Max attempts to follow her but in a quick flash, Chloe has her hand across Max's seat, blocking her from getting up. “Don't. I– I just need some time alone right now. Cool?” Obviously it's not cool. Chloe is _freaking_ out and Max is starting to realize, in a fit of unprecedented panic, that maybe she threw the grenade a little too early. But it's too late now. And Max no longer has her rewind powers. There's no way out of this. Holy _shit_ , she has just screwed _everything_ up.

“Chloe, I'm–”

“No, Max. Please.” There's a plea in her voice, a cry for help. She avoids Max's intense gaze, focusing instead on her faded blue jeans. “Just– Just come back to Treble Grounds later, okay? I, uh, haven't managed to get your guitar fixed but if you drop by later when I end my shift, I should be all done by then so–” She pulls away, unnerved to the bone. The last time Max saw her act this way was when Frank pulled a knife on her. But back then, Max had a gun, and she was ready to use it on Frank should he try anything. Now? Now she has nothing to fend off the wolves except her shitty ability to screw almost everything up. Chloe takes a breath, holds it. “Five o'clock. I'll see you then. Cool?”

Max hesitates, but she can tell Chloe's already a million miles away. She nods, taking in every aspect of Chloe's confounded face, imprinting the image into her mind like a permanent tattoo. “I'll be there.”

Chloe nods in response, digging into her back jean pocket with her right hand. She sets a couple of bills on the table in front of Max, smoothening them out with her palm, before turning on her heel and walking straight out the front door. Max stares as she goes, disappearing down the street with her head hung low.

_Shit. What the fuck did I do?_

She glances at the five dollar bills in front of her, crumpled up and torn at the edges. Obviously, these are from Chloe's personal savings. And Max can't possibly use this because they're Chloe's, and Chloe shouldn't be spending money on her when just a year ago, Max let her get shot in the fucking stomach. She buries her face in her hands, forcing the rise and fall of her chest to stabilize. No matter what she does, her hands won't stop trembling. Despite everything, the memory of Chloe's death still haunts her like nothing else. And despite her best attempts to forget about her, nothing will ever burn the memory away. The memory of her smile, her laugh, her eyes, her touch, her hugs, her lips, her warmth – And now she's back. And it's become an even greater burden.

It's become almost a disease.

Max pulls away, exhaling quietly through her mouth.

_She still wanted to pay for our lunch..._ She thinks to herself guiltily, eyeing the crumpled bills laid out in front of her, before deciding to stuff them into her bag before she forgets that they were even there to begin with. There's no way she's letting Chloe pay for their shit date.

She uses her allowance, money she made from her job as a freelancer, before stumbling her way outside.

_Five o'clock, Max._ She thinks, looking up into the bright blue. _Don't screw it up again._

_I'll make things right, Chloe, I swear I will._

 

* * *

 

Max never waved in punctuality, that was Chloe's forte, but still, today, she somehow only managed to step into the quaint little music store a quarter past five. After heading home that afternoon to ponder the results of her actions, she put on a mixtape of Chloe's favorite songs and played it on a loop, reliving unforgettable adventures in the only bubble she feels absolutely comfortable in: the bubble of Chloe's memory. She eventually just dozed off on the sofa couch in her loft, and totally missed their five o'clock appointment. But she pedaled as fast as she could down the highway to reach Treble Grounds before the clock struck thirty, because she can't keep Chloe waiting again. _One whole fucking year was enough_ , Max thinks bitterly.

She pushes past the front door, looking over at the counter only to bite her lip when Chloe doesn't come instantly to light. In the dimness, however, she manages to completely miss the silhouette standing a few feet beside her, assorting a variety of CDs.

A sigh escapes Max's lips, and the figure beside her raises her head, eyebrow cocked.

“I was wondering if you were gonna show.” Max jumps – yet again – and whirls around. Chloe meets her gaze with a subtle smile, though caution paints her detached expression.

Max bows her head. “I am _so_ sorry. No excuses, I'm a major loser.” She flinches, but goes on. “I– I was so burned out with everything that's been happening that I just zonked out.”

Chloe laughs, shrugging. “No big deal, Max. We've all been there.” She makes her way to the back, the routine sway of her hips drawing Max's eyes and completely capturing her undivided attention. “I've changed her strings to something a little more mellow than the ones you were using before. A Bronze Light. Seemed more like your type than the other Mediums we have in stock.” She leans across the counter and pulls the guitar case off the ground.

Max flushes at Chloe's stretching body. “U-Um, thank you, Chloe. You're a life saver.”

“Am I?” Chloe's smile falters, and for a second, Max wonders if there's something more to what she's just said. Before she can dive deeper into the subject, Chloe offers her the guitar, and Max hastily pulls it over her shoulder. “It should be... as good as new.”

She meets her gaze. Then realizes that she hasn't actually paid for it yet.

_What a freeloader, Caulfield. Now she's gonna think you called her your dead best friend just to get out of paying the cost._

She digs into her bag for her wallet, but Chloe, noticing her intent, reaches out to stop her. “No, don't, this is on the house.”

“What?” Max pulls away. “N-No, I can't do that–”

“Look, we can both agree that after the day we've had, we kinda deserve a little less formalities.” Chloe sighs, running her fingers through her beanie-less hair. She smiles, although the sentiment doesn't quite entirely reach her eyes. “I've been thinking about what you said all day. But... You gotta know, this isn't really a good time. I've been dealing with some shit this week and I can't get into this right now.”

Max's heart drops. Obviously she didn't expect her to hop into the bandwagon so quickly, but at the same time, there was no way to prepare herself for this kind of rejection. She'd give the world to have Chloe back. But a Chloe who has absolutely no intent on befriending Max? That's– That's too painful.

“But,” Chloe whispers, shifting from one foot to another. Max's gaze flickers upwards, and for one small moment, she feels a shred of hope manifest from somewhere within. “I wanna take you out on a real date. So we can... I don't know, discuss this shit and all.” She sighs, shutting her eyes as if this whole conversation is just too much of a burden to bear. Max doesn't blame her. Max wishes it didn't have to be this way. “Something messed up is going on. And since we're... _obviously_ connected, we should probably try and figure it out together... Right?”

Max swallows. This wasn't what she expected stepping in here, but it's one hella great turn of events. “Yeah.” She mumbles absently, avoiding Chloe's intense gaze. “That's a good idea.”

Chloe smirks, just slightly. “Of course it is. I came up with it.”

This makes Max smile. _She hasn't changed at all._

“Alright, well, what about Saturday? Um, we can meet at the park?” Chloe shrugs cheekily, rubbing the back of her head as if she's actually... nervous. Max purses her lips. This is too adorable. “I mean, it's a little lame but if we're gonna do this, I'm gonna need a place where I can pop a cigarette because, y'know, helps with the freak-outs and all.”

Max chuckles, unsurprised that Chloe still sneaks a smoke every now and then. “The park sounds great, Chloe.”

“Yeah?” Chloe throws her a lop-sided grin. “Alright, then park it is! So, um, let's meet at 12?”

Max nods. “It's a date.”

Chloe beams, leaning against the counter with a hand pressed against her thigh. Standing there, looking at Max the way she is, God, it feels like nothing's changed. Like the whole year didn't just happen. Like Chloe Price is still Max's best friend from five years ago, and they're reunited and no longer under the threat of a twister threatening to swallow their city whole. This is Max's chance. She can finally just be with Chloe, without the freaky time-traveling powers and tornado standing in her way.

_A date._ Max thinks, blushing. _I'm going on a date with my best friend who died._

_Holy shit, how much stranger can this week get?_

 


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for all the wonderful support, guys!
> 
> This chapter was especially fun. Enjoy!

**CHAPTER THREE**

 

_Max, you finally came back to me this week, and... you did nothing but show me your love and friendship._

 

_Whatever happens... All those moments between us were real, and they'll always be ours._

 

_Being together this week... It was the best farewell gift I could have hoped for._

 

_You're my hero, Max._

 

_I'll always love you..._

 

_And Max Caulfield? Don't you forget about me._

 

 

_Never._

 

Max jerks out of her thoughts, turning around in surprise to eye the jogger who had just brushed up against her side before directing her gaze back out across the lake. She sighs slowly, quietly, fisting and unfisting her hands, deciding that maybe it wasn't such a good idea to show up twenty minutes early. Then again, she's spent the whole week since her last encounter with Chloe thinking about this day, and what she would say, and what they would even do. Sure, they had to talk about Chloe. The old Chloe. And the Chloe now. But they're also on a _date_. A real-life, hand-holding, body-touching, I-kinda-wanna-take-this-to-the-next-step _date_.

_Am I going insane? I feel like this should be the least of my worries._

_Calm down, Caulfield. You've been beaten down and humiliated, threatened and mentally tortured. I think you deserve a little R n R._

But Max can't calm down. Because the memories are coming back in waves and she has absolutely no power to stop them. In fact the more she tries to block them out, the more vivid they seem to become. At some point, she can even feel the wind whistling around her, the chill of the night rushing into her very bones, the storm edging closer and closer to the shore of Arcadia Bay, screaming at her to make a choice she can't possibly make without destroying some part of herself.

God.

This is so fucking messed up. Why can't the world just leave her alone?

“Boo!”

Max's heart soars to her throat, and she whirls around with an expression of absolute horror. Chloe has on an apologetic smile, and hesitantly, she places a warm hand on her trembling shoulder. “Okay, that clearly didn't work in my favor.”

Max forces a laugh, but it comes out as more of a strained groan. “You scared me.”

“Yeah, I realized.” Chloe says, pulling away. “Shit, I'm sorry. That was a dick move.”

“What? No.” Max shakes her head, slapping a smile on her pale face at the hopes of lessening their strange tension. “I've just been... really edgy lately. It's not your fault.”

Chloe offers a smile. “Yeah, I get where you're coming from. After what you told me, I'd be freaking out if you _weren't_ getting all tense.” She clears her throat nervously before bringing the hand she's kept behind her back forward to expose the corn dog between her fingers. “I, uh, thought you might be hungry.”

Max smiles wryly, momentarily forgetting all about her freak-out. _I can get used to her adorableness._ “Starving, actually. Thanks.” She reaches out to take it, sliding her fingers in between Chloe's. Their gazes meet, and for a long moment (although it feels like barely a second to Max) their eyes are locked in some weird intense connection that only seems to break when Chloe's fingers slip off hers. Max blinks, then awkwardly pulls away.

Chloe, on the other hand, decides to play it cool. “Told you we had a connection.” She says.

Max laughs, biting into her offered corn dog. And though a part of her stings at the very thought, she knows that there can be no other way. She and Chloe have, for so long now, been bonded in a way that can't be described in words. Even when they were away, it wasn't as if their bond was ever severed. It became merely a little stretched. But the more they talked, the closer they became. Max wants to believe that they were meant for each other. She _wants_ to believe that she and Chloe can finally _be_ together. God, she would go back and give up Arcadia Bay just to test the theory. If only she could, if only she still had her powers–

“So,” Chloe exclaims, clapping her hands in front of her in one swooping motion. “There's this place by the lake, crazy beautiful, with like ducks and shit, and people go there to, y'know, fly their kites and hang out with their family. Bonding time, right?” She turns to give Max a coy smile before shrugging. “I was thinking we could start there.”

Max blinks. What the hell is she doing? Chloe's right there in front of her. She doesn't need to go back. She's already here. “Wowsers, it sounds hella amazing.”

Chloe furrows her brows. “Hella?”

Max turns to her quizzically. “Yeah. Why?”

She looks away, and for a moment, her expression is lost in the distance. “It's just–” She shrugs. “–haven't heard that word in a... while.”

What? But it was Chloe's word to begin with. Max looks down, and in a split second, she sees a tremble take over Chloe's left hand. Before it becomes a substantial thought however, Chloe takes her by the wrist and pulls her forward forcefully.

“Shit, we're gonna miss the last spot!” She screams. “Make a run for it!”

Max hesitates, but her instincts get the better of her. In less than a second, she's running across the lawn with Chloe in front of her, trying her best not to trip on literally anything on the ground whilst simultaneously holding her corn dog upright so it doesn't fly off. Chloe slows down to a trot, and Max, noticing this change of pace, gladly follows suit. They jog up to a large tree, lending its shade to a large area in front of the lake, where the grass seems relatively thinner than the ones elsewhere. With a content smile, Chloe falls onto the empty patch of grass, stretching her legs out in front of her.

“This is the _best_ spot in all of downtown.”

Max smiles, folding her legs underneath her. “It really is beautiful.”

“And not to mention quiet.” Chloe mumbles, shutting her eyes and baring her face to the sky. “You could murder a guy here and no one would know.”

Max flinches, though she tries her best not to. Chloe notices the sudden pressure. She opens her eyes and throws Max a subtle smile. “So Max,” she whispers, leaning into the little brunette girl. “How should we start this?”

Max flushes. “This?”

“This... I don't know, investigation?” Chloe laughs awkwardly. “I don't know how to start a conversation about your, um, dead best friend.”

Oh. _Oh._

Max laughs, deflecting her stupidity by biting into her corn dog. Of _course_ Chloe was talking about that. What else could she have been talking about? “Um, I could show you more pictures?”

Chloe contemplates this, then nods, slowly.

Max takes out the little metal box from the other day in the Sizzling Diner and places it gently on the grass in front of her. She pushes the top off, and searches through the contents inside. Meanwhile, Chloe leans in to take a better look at everything within, face scrunched up in a tense expression of mixed anxiety and curiosity. Max decides on a photo of Chloe against the sunset. She took it without her knowledge, and God is she so grateful for this beautiful candid, even if it is just the back of Chloe's head.

“This was taken the day we first saw each other since I came back to Arcadia Bay.” Max explains, handing the polaroid to Chloe. “Nathan, um, this asshole kid, was harassing me and she–she arrived just in time to save me. Afterwards we went to her place to... catch up. We left, went to the lighthouse and...” Max trails off, squinting against the unwarranted tears.

Chloe looks up, noticing the change in her demeanor. “Max?”

Max laughs, shaking her head. “Sorry. I just–”

“She obviously meant a lot to you.” Chloe whispers, looking back down at the photo in her hands. She narrows her eyes, running her thumb against its glimmering surface, and takes a deep breath. “What was she like?”

Max wants to laugh, but she decides that it would probably be too inappropriate for this whole tear-inducing situation. Instead, she vouches for a smile, one that can adequately emphasize the joy that Chloe used to make her feel. “She was... hella amazing. Fearless and–and smart and just totally cool. Even when we were kids, I'd always admired her for being so... out there. When she wanted something, she'd go to the ends of the Earth to get it.”

Chloe stares off into the lake, a distant, indifferent, almost longing expression on her beautiful face. It's strange, telling Chloe these things that Max thinks about her, even if Chloe thinks she isn't actually talking about her. “She sounds almost... perfect.”

Max turns her gaze down sadly. “Chloe was definitely not perfect...” She sighs, recalling the memory. “She was... angry. When her dad left, it was as if he took her with him. A part of her died that day, and she hasn't been able to get that part back since. Then I left. And that messed her up even more. I was a major dick. I didn't even–” Max hesitates. “I didn't even make much of an effort to keep in contact with her. When I moved, that was it. New life. New Max. So stupid.”

Chloe looks at her affectionately, and when Max sees this it takes everything inside of her not to break down crying. “Shit happens, Max. It wasn't your fault that you wanted to move on.”

“Wasn't it though?” Chloe raged on her for leaving. She was–She was hella pissed. And to this day, Max isn't even sure if she forgave her for it. Sure, she risked everything to save her, time and time again. But in the end, what did it amount to? Max let Chloe die anyways.

That's when Max realizes that she's crying.

 _Oh no._ Max thinks, gritting her teeth. _Not here. Not now. Chloe can't see me like this._

But the world has a twisted way of showing you it cares. Chloe looks over, noticing the quiet sniffling and the long stretch of silence that follows it, and the second her gaze lands on Max's dripping tears, she reaches out to pull her in.

“Max...” She whispers gently into her hair, pressing Max so close that it becomes hard for her to feel anything else.

“Chloe,” Max sobs, trembling like she hasn't done in a while. Everything around her is collapsing and she's powerless to stop it. The realization of the truth is as ruthless as it is sudden. Everything she did, everything she fought for, every insane and stupid rewind that she used, she did it to save Chloe, she did it _for_ Chloe. And where did that get her?

Chloe _died_.

Chloe died and fuck, it was all Max's fault.

“Max,” Chloe tightens her hold around her. “It wasn't your fault.”

_I want to believe you, Chloe. I want to believe you so badly._

“My, um, my dad used to tell me... that everything happens for a reason. It's this... stupid Chinese proverb that he learned growing up or something but, he used to say it all the time.” Chloe sighs, shaking her head. “He was full of bullshit but I wanted to believe him. That shit happens because there's some sort of... _bigger plan_ in action, you know? A bigger endgame.”

Bigger endgame. Why does that sound so familiar? Max uncurls herself from Chloe's hold and slowly, she pulls herself away, rubbing her eyes with a quavering hand. “Are you and your dad close?”

Chloe squints against the sun, skin tight against her jaw. “We used to be.” She turns to face her, reaching out to wipe a stray tear from Max's left eye, before running her thumb across her cheek. Max shudders at the intimacy, but she relishes in its feel.

“Don't look so sad, Max.” Chloe says in barely over a whisper, staring at her with so much care the world around them becomes a blur of blue and green. “I'm never leaving you.”

Max's eyes widen. She pulls away, startled. It wasn't the intensity of the line that got her so shaken up. It was the redundancy of it.

Because Chloe said the exact same thing the night they broke into Blackwell.

Chloe seems to realize how passionate this line seemed to be, and instantly regrets her decision in saying it. She pulls away, mumbling several inaudible verses before going into a long chorus about how she didn't mean to say it and it was just the heat of the moment and–“I was just–you looked so fucking depressed and I _hated_ seeing you cry and holy shit, I'm completely screwing myself over. Fuck!”

Max smiles, even though this situation hardly calls for a tease. Despite it all, Max is just glad Chloe's still... Chloe. “You are such a dork.”

Chloe snarls, shoving her lightly on the shoulder. “Don't even get me started, Caulfield.”

Max laughs. The sound of it makes Chloe's face brighten almost immediately. “What, can't handle the heat?”

“As if!” Chloe shakes her head. “Chloe Price is tougher than any heat you have to offer.”

“Oh yeah?” Max teases, bumping her shoulders playfully. They laugh for a moment, enjoying the simplicity of the atmosphere, the warmth against their skin, the beauty of the moment. Chloe reaches into her jean pocket and pops a cigarette, and the familiarity of the action makes Max do an instant double-take. They hurt, these memories, but she can live with them, if it means getting to keep Chloe again. Max glances at her companion, and in an instant she gets lost in her immaculate perfection. God, she's gorgeous. Max can't get enough of her. She wants to melt into her, or capture her everlasting perfection in a photograph. It's impossible, the very beauty would tear her film to shreds. It can't be contained. Just like Chloe.

Whatever twisted nightmare she's in, she knows –

She never wants to wake up from it.

 

* * *

 

“So,” Chloe links their arms together, shoving her face up close to Max's. “Where to now?”

Max, in turn, nudges her face away, laughing alongside her. “I don't know, where do _you_ wanna go?”

“Are you kidding me? I've literally made all the shots. It's your turn to get creative, SuperMax.”

 _SuperMax?_ Max blinks rapidly, hardly believing these convenient slips. _Did Chloe_ really _forget her memory?_

“Alright, how about the carousel?” Chloe tips her chin at the wooden horses soaring up and down in a perfect circle, and the kids swarming around them. “You can't say no to a little childhood fun.”

Max grins, remembering the time she and Chloe pretended to be pirates on black and white wooden horses. Chloe always picked the black horse. Said she fit the stigma better that way. “True, I _can't_ say no to that.” She shoots Chloe a look. “I want the black horse.”

For a moment, Chloe doesn't seem to say anything. But then her eyebrow pique up, and she pulls her arm away, sticking her tongue out as an act of rebellion. “No way, the black one's mine!”

Max's heart skips a beat. She races after her companion, who took off the moment she spotted the dashing black horse make its way round the bend, unable to fully contain the smile spreading through the entirety of her face. Chloe makes it to the black one first, hopping atop its sleek back before a tall blonde kid can get ahold of it. Max, in turn, hesitates in front of the entrance, looking over at the little kids vying to get a chance to ride one of these things. She looks up. Chloe rolls her eyes and waves her off.

“Come on! You only live once, hippie!”

Max hardly believes it. Everything coming out of her mouth...

“Max!”

“O-Okay!” Max tips herself forward, edging through the crowd of kids to grab ahold of a short beige mare about three horses behind Chloe's.

“Atta girl.” Chloe muses, throwing Max a grin from over her shoulder. “I betcha' I can take you in a race.”

Max laughs humorlessly, narrowing her eyes. “No duh, Sherlock, you're like, three horses in front of me.”

“Excuses! Ride the wind, partner, or you'll get trampled.”

Max scoffs, failing completely to hide her grin. “Oh you're asking for it!”

Chloe laughs, lunging off the horse as Max races up to grab her. They dash after each other in the maze of horses and children, avoiding possible injuries by being as agile and swift as they can possibly be. Max bumps into a kid and spills her ice cream though, but Chloe drags her away before the kid can make much of a fuss. Suddenly, they're walking down the path following the lake, giggling like preschoolers who had just seen their crushes flex in the sandbox. Chloe has her arm around Max's waist, and Max has hers around Chloe's shoulder. The contact is familiar, warm.

It's everything Max has ever hoped for.

“You're surprisingly hardcore, Max.” Chloe remarks lightly, bumping her with her hip.

Max laughs in return. “So I've been told. Apparently I'm just that versatile.”

Chloe chuckles slightly, shaking her head. “And unfairly attractive too.”

Max blushes, disbelieving her own ears. She refuses to look up in fear of Chloe seeing the infestation of red on her cheeks, but when she sneaks a peak at Chloe's face, she realizes that it pleasantly mirrors her own.

“Sorry,” Chloe whispers, throwing her a look. “Was that too sudden?”

Max shakes her head. “No,” she whispers, smiling. “That was perfect.”

Chloe smiles, and their conversation falls short on topics. Not that either of them mind. They've spent the entire day talking, it's nice to just hang back and let the atmosphere do its job. By the time they settle down in a nearby cafe about a block away from the park, it's nearing four o'clock. They take a seat outside, deciding that despite spending nearly the entire day outdoors, it'd be good to just soak up the sun before it completely goes away. Chloe orders a burger with a beer, while Max decides to just go simple and get a sandwich. And water, of course.

“You're so lame.” Chloe jokes, gesturing to the waitress who just left.

“What?” Max feigns offense. “Just cause I go for the best and the healthy?”

Chloe rolls her eyes obnoxiously. “Water is the tears of losers, hippie.”

Max laughs, but her response is cut short when Chloe reaches over the table to grab her hand. Chloe's done it a hundred times before. Or, at least, the old Chloe did. But this is a first for the new Chloe Price. This is new. This is... nice.

She runs a thumb over her skin, making Max shiver despite the heat in the air.

“Max, you're something else.” Chloe whispers, biting her lip. She's avoiding her gaze, as if she'll get flustered or lose her concentration the minute she catches a glimpse of Max's face. “I've never been so... comfortable around anyone before in barely a week.” She laughs, finally looking up into Max's blue eyes, sinking in them, drowning in them. “I mean, shit, Max. I practically trust you with my fucking life now.”

Her life? Max tenses, though she knows doing so would make Chloe retract, as she usually does. But she can't help it. Cause one year ago, Chloe _did_ trust Max with her life. And still she gave it up. For what? For fucking Arcadia Bay.

_Shit. Shit, what shitty timing for my anxiety to come back._

She presses her palm against her eyes, teeth gritted to keep the agony from spilling out in words.

“Max?” Chloe's startled voice comes barreling into her thoughts.

She pulls her hand away, blinking. When she looks down, she realizes that Chloe still has her hand atop hers. In fact, she's tightened her hold. Her heart explodes with warmth. “Chloe–”

“Max,” Chloe turns serious, squeezing Max's hand gently. “I don't want you think that... that I'm taking advantage of your sadness or whatever, okay? If you ever think that I'm going too fast, just stop me. I like you. I don't–I don't wanna screw this up.”

Max is _pretty_ sure she looks like a stunted tomato right now.

“Um...” Chloe raises an eyebrow, giving Max's hand another gentle squeeze. “Is–Is Max there? Did I scare her away or...?”

Max breaks into a grin, and in an instant, Chloe's face morphs from panic to utter relief. “You have no idea how happy I am that you're here, Chloe.”

Chloe chuckles lightly. “I hope it's not just because I look and sound and act like your ex best friend.”

“No,” Max whispers, shaking her head. “It's so much more than that.”

 

* * *

 

Max tugs on Chloe's hand, pulling her to a gentle stop. “This is me.” She says shyly, shifting from one foot to another.

Chloe looks up, eyeing the humble apartment building in front of her with a smile. “Sure seems like you too.” She jokes, nudging her shorter friend. “So, you gonna invite me into your hidden lair? Or am I just gonna be kept in suspense?”

Max flushes, thinking about Chloe in her apartment, thinking about what they would do in her apartment. _I am so not ready for that yet._

“You know what?” Chloe adds quickly, realizing something. “Let's raincheck on that. I, uh, gotta take the night shift at Treble Grounds since I was gone basically the whole day today.” She laughs, shrugging it off. “Nothin' better than being a music store clerk, right?”

Max lifts her chin, smiling. “I happen to be very attracted to punk music store clerks with blue hair and kickass boots.” She pauses, before quietly adding, “or maybe it's just this specific one.”

Chloe smiles coyly, though a blush paints her cheeks, and reaches out to grab Max's hand in hers. “Who knew you could be such a sweet-talker?”

“It comes with the package, I'm afraid.” Max shrugs, like it's a horrendous truth she has to come to terms with. Chloe, in turn, laughs, which makes Max feel all the better for saying it. “Thank you... for today.”

Chloe clicks her tongue. “I should be the one saying that to you, since you kinda saved me and all.”

“Saved you?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs. “It's been a while since I've had that much fun. There's... been a lot of shit going around. It's just nice to kick back and not give a shit about anything else in the world.” She smiles. “With you.”

 _So she_ isn't _all happy and carefree. This Chloe has problems too, huh?_

“Whatever it is, Chloe.” Max squeezes her hands, bringing them up to her chest. “I want you to know you can count on me. I'll always be here for you.”

Chloe contemplates this, smiling despite the sadness lingering in her eyes. “Somehow, I don't doubt that.” She looks down at their hands, squeezed tightly together, and sucks in a breath. “Alright, hero. You better leave before my hands decide to permanently claim yours.”

“I wouldn't mind that.” Max says absent-mindedly, catching herself right as she says it.

Chloe, however, doesn't seem to mind. “As delightfully pleasing as that sounds... I think it's better if we get some rest. It's been... a crazy day.”

“Sure has.” Max whispers.

“You okay?”

She looks up at her, all concern and worry, with a splash of playfulness hidden in her beautiful features, and slowly leans into her body, pressing her forehead against her neck. “I am now.”

 _With you. I've... missed you_ so _much, Chloe Price._

_I'm never letting you go again._

“Max...” Chloe reluctantly lets go of Max's hands to stroke the back of her head instead. For a few long moments, they remain in this intimate position, relishing in the feel of each other's comfort. Max never wants this moment to end. There hasn't been a day in Max's life that she hasn't wished she'd sacrificed Arcadia Bay instead. Yes, Kate and Warren and Joyce and everybody else would've died. But Chloe would've still been alive. And she would've been with her. It's selfish, she knows. She knows and she doesn't care. Fuck everything else. She loves Chloe. She's the _only_ thing that matters to her.

They pull away in unison, probably through their oh-so-evident connection, and lock gazes for a few short seconds. Chloe pouts, running a hand across Max's cheek. “Goodnight, Max Caulfield.”

Max hesitates, letting her hands fall back to her sides. “Goodnight, Chloe Price.”

Chloe leans forward and presses her lips against Max's forehead, making Max feel all sorts of blue butterflies fluttering away in her stomach. Chloe pulls away, a moment too soon, and takes a casual step back. They smile at each other for a while, exchanging clandestine messages through the connection in their eyes, before finally, Chloe turns around and walks down the block.

Max sucks in a breath, pressing her hands tightly against her chest as her racing heart bursts out of control. Her only regret is that she no longer has her rewind powers. If she did, she'd be stuck in an eternity in the arms of Chloe Price.

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I ended up posting this chapter so late! My school had a musical tonight and there was rehearsal and we had to prepare and yeah. Lots of things going on. 
> 
> But here it is! Chapter five will be the last chapter. 
> 
> Enjoy guys! Thank you again for all your support! <3

**CHAPTER FOUR**

 

It's been about two weeks since Max Caulfield got back in touch with her ex – dead – best friend, Chloe Price, who still seems to have no memory of everything that went on in Arcadia Bay. Two weeks of dates, two weeks of talking, two weeks of getting to know each other. And despite it all, Chloe Price is still an enigma. All Max knows is that she and her dad were once close, except something happened, and she's been working with Treble Grounds for about three months now. Everything else seems to be deflected by countless creative excuses that range from 'who knows? Maybe she fell in a ditch' to 'oh look, an ice cream truck!' No matter the excuse, Max would _always_ go along with it. Because in all honesty... She's just ecstatic to have her best friend back.

It's a Sunday afternoon, almost 6, and Max is currently sprawled across the lap of Chloe Price in their usual spot opposite the park lake downtown. Her retro polaroid is in her hands, lens directed at the lake, finger on the shutter. With a gentle click, she lets the photo slip out of the slit above and pulls it off with one smooth motion. “This is a keeper.” She muses, fanning it gently in the air.

Chloe props herself up on her elbows, examining the photo with narrowed eyes. “I don't get how you photographers work. You can see a whole world in a sunset and all I'll ever be able to see is some orange on a blue backdrop.”

“That's a lie, Chloe Price, and you know it.” Max says, placing the picture down next to the other ten she already took in the past week now. Most of them are of Chloe. Or Max. Or both of them... Together.

Chloe scoffs, grinning playfully as she says, “What _is_ true is that I actually don't get how you photographers work.”

“On that, I have no doubt.” Max retorts light-heartedly. “When Chloe and I were kids, she used to hang up these lists of goals that we had to accomplish before we die. I mean, they were pretty simple goals, like win a photography competition or... play pirates in an abandoned pirate ship.”

Chloe laughs. “Well, that escalated quickly.”

Max chuckles along, elbowing her punk friend's calf playfully before continuing. “She used to love crossing every box off that list. But right at the bottom, where she drew the biggest boxes, were two goals that she and I had to accomplish individually. One was for me to become a famous photographer.” Max squints against the sunlight, recalling the past memory. “The other was for her to... stay with me forever.”

Chloe stares off at a distant family playing fetch with their dog a few yards away. “Sounds like you two were really close.” She extends two fingers, then joins them together. “Like this.”

Max rolls her eyes, propping herself up on her elbows. “We _were_ planning on taking over the world together...”

Chloe smiles, but the warmth just barely reaches her eyes. She looks... different. More detached than usual. “Sorry it didn't pan out for you two.”

“Chloe,” Max laughs, grabbing her hand. “What're you talking about? You're still here.”

Chloe visibly flinches. “Still think I'm her, huh?”

Max sighs, but she doesn't let go of her hand, which gives Chloe a small amount of comfort despite the situation. “I know it's crazy. I know that I'm an idiot for believing that but... Yes. Stranger things have happened.”

Chloe's eyebrows knit together, and Max realizes in a blind flash that she's said way too much. “What do you mean... 'stranger things have happened'?”

“Uh, well,” Max fidgets awkwardly, turning away to hide her way-too-obvious expression. She's always been bad at masking her feelings. Ask anyone, especially Chloe. Jefferson knew that. Maybe that was why he dragged her into his Dark Room. Because she was so... _innocent_. God, the word itself disgusts her now. She shakes her head, ridding herself of these thoughts, of these memories. She can't keep getting held back by this, it's been a whole fucking year! Her thoughts are redirected to the impending question at hand. Out of sheer instinct, she decides to just go for the typical route. “You wouldn't believe me even if I told you.”

Chloe makes a face, falling for her notorious trap. “Oh yeah? Try me, Caulfield.”

Max bites her lip. “Well...” She traces a finger down Chloe's leg, through the fabric of her jeans, over the shredded material above her right thigh. Chloe just barely shudders at the contact, before Max speaks up. “I could rewind time.”

Chloe yonks awake, completely and utterly sober. “What?” She exclaims in a flat tone.

Sighing, Max pulls herself off, leaning back so that she can stare directly at Chloe without having to crane her neck or twist her hips. “I had a power. Back when I was in Arcadia Bay. I could go back, and forward, in time.”

And Chloe has no reason to believe any of this. Anybody would chalk this up as some madgirl's crazy daydream or even a silly, light-hearted prank. Max expects Chloe to react in one of these two ways, because that's what she would've done if Chloe had said the same thing to her instead. Max knows that telling her is a bad idea, because of everything that's happened. But what if–What if, by some magical chance, that Chloe believes her? What if she starts to... remember? Max knows its a long-shot.

But it's a shot she's willing to take.

“I'm sorry,” Chloe mumbles, shaking her head. “I thought I heard you say you could fucking time-travel.”

“I could!” Max hisses, grabbing her by the shoulders. “That's why you died, that's why you _had_ to die! Because–Because I tried to save you, but I ended up only bringing death and destruction. And everyone's lives were at stake, and you–you wanted me to go back, to change things, to make things right, you wanted, for once, not to be selfish.”

“Stop saying you!” Chloe cries, pulling away. Her hands are shaking by her sides but she manages to keep her voice at a steady syllable. “Max, I'm not your dead friend Chloe Price. No matter what similarities we might have, it's–it's just not possible, okay?”

Max hesitates, but pushes onwards. “So you believe me? That I had time-traveling powers?”

Chloe shakes her head aggressively. “No! I mean, I don't know, Max, you have no reason to lie to me. At least, I don't think you do. And after all the shit we've been through, I feel like I _have_ to believe you. Cause we're–we're connected and all.”

“Chloe, I swear to you I am not lying.”

“That doesn't make it any easier to believe.”

Max purses her lips, flipping her bag open to dig the little metal box out. Once she has it in her hands, she tips the top off and snatches a photo of a blue butterfly from the bottom pile.

She never tore it apart. Turns out, she didn't even need to. Because she lost her rewind powers right after that. The photo became useless to her. Just another reminder of everything that's happened, and what could've been if she had just saved Chloe and got rid of that whole fucking town. She hates it. She hates this guilt, this selfishness, this anger. She doesn't know what to do. Except show Chloe her fears. Before Chloe can reach out to pluck the photo from her fingers, Max grasps her hands tightly and pulls her close.

“Chloe, please,” she whispers. “I would never lie to you.”

Chloe's eyes flicker, and for a moment, she actually looks dubious. But the look disappears just as suddenly as it had appeared, and Max finds herself staring into the eyes of a girl who means the entire world to her. God, if she could frame her now. Chloe leans forward and takes the photo from Max's trembling fingers, placing it directly in front of her. She squints, focuses, and a stretch of silence follows her as she scrutinizes the mysterious blue butterfly.

“It was taken right before I got my powers...” Max explains slowly. “You–I mean Chloe... was there, with Nathan Prescott. He had a gun and–and he got mad. He was threatening to shoot her, he–” Max gulps. “She died. I saw her die, I heard the gunshot, I–And then suddenly I was back in the classroom. Everything was back to normal and... And Chloe was still alive. It was all happening again. I went back into the bathroom, took that stupid picture, and then Nathan and Chloe came in. But this time, I stopped him. I stopped her death.”

Chloe remains as silent as a ghost, gaze unfaltering.

“Everything started changing the moment I did.” Max whispers, refusing to look away. Chloe looks so intense. She looks so... focused. Undisturbed. Max still wants to take a photo of her, still wants to frame her, there's almost an urge to do so, but this is probably not the most appropriate of times for a random candid, so she suppresses the force. “So I let her die the third time. She–She died because of me.”

And finally, Chloe looks up from the photo. Her blue eyes are cold, intoxicatingly so. The sight makes Max's heart beat harshly against her chest. She doesn't look like the Chloe she's been meeting up with this past two weeks now. She looks like the Chloe Max saw get buried in a coffin. Angry and depressed and just fucking done with the world. “Max,” she whispers, blinking the unexpected shift of personality away. “I... I believe you.” She sighs. “Or at least, a part of me does. The other part thinks you're batshit crazy.”

Max sighs. “I don't blame you.”

“But–” Chloe begins, glancing at the blue butterfly once again. “I want to know what happened. I want to know... everything that happened.”

Max's eyes widen. “Everything?”

Chloe nods, setting the photo down, and reaching out to take Max's hands in hers. “Everything. From start to finish.”

“But... Why?”

Chloe throws her a look as if the answer should be obvious. “ _Because_ Max,” she says. “You got time-traveling powers and you faced off with a shitload of apparent agony. Me, being a masochist and sadist and an absolute lover of your voice, want to know all about it. So, without further ado,” she shifts her position so that her head is now on Max's lap, the entire scenario completely switched. “Please begin.”

Max doesn't understand why, but she complies. She starts from the beginning, from Chloe's arrival and death, to Nathan Prescott's obvious involvement, to the disappearance of Rachel Amber, and from there, she goes on and on and on. She spares no detail, occasionally digressing to the past, like explaining how Chloe's dad, William, was in a tragic car accident because Joyce, Chloe's mom, needed a ride home from the grocery store. She told her about David, about her new life, about Rachel Amber, about the Everyday Heroes contest, about the junkyard, the railroad –God, talking about it all again is a rollercoaster of emotions. By the end of it, Max isn't surprised to find that she's crying. Not sobbing, like before. Just quietly allowing her tears to fall freely down her face. And Chloe, understanding the situation, doesn't attempt to chase the tears away. Instead she comforts her, squeezing her hands gently as she delves deeper into the past.

“Chloe, I loved her _so_ much, I–” Max bites her tongue, wiping the last of her tears away. “I would've given up that entire town for her. I would've, but she–”

“–wanted to be _your_ hero, for once?”

Max looks down, startled. It's the first time Chloe's spoken since she started her story. Her voice is a welcome sound, but her sentence surprises her. “Yeah,” Max whispers, softly, uncertainly, trying to graze over the surface of Chloe's emotions, trying to figure out what she's feeling right now.

Chloe sighs deeply, pushing herself up. “Alright.” She whispers. “I, uh, have something I need to tell you.”

Max tenses, unsure of how to react to this. Judging from her weary voice, it can't be anything good. And since Max has just finished telling her this whole sob story, she assumes it's gonna be something personal, something... unexpected. But she's so fucking sick of unexpected. How much worse can any of this get?

“Max,” Chloe bites her lip, evading her gaze. Max reaches out to raise her chin, forcing her gaze to lock with hers, and she smiles, softly, reassuringly, despite the wetness still evident in her blue eyes, as if to say _I'm here for you, Chloe. Always._ With a sharp inhale, Chloe throws her a lop-sided grin, and the tension in her shoulders loosen. “Max, I–I didn't tell you because... Because for months now it's been messing with me, fucking with me and I–I was scared, you know? I got chickenshit because I wasn't sure what was happening. With you suddenly crashing into my life, and your story, and everything you've made me feel–” Chloe sighs, shaking her head. “It's all so much to handle.”

“Chloe,” Max looks her dead in the eye. “You don't have to deal with it on your own.” _Not anymore. Never again, Chloe._

Chloe smiles. “I know, Max.” She hesitates. “And that's why it scares me...”

Silence. Max awaits her next move, while Chloe anxiously tries to piece the right sentence together.

“I can't tell you anything about my parents, or where I came from, or how I got here...

… Because I don't remember, Max.”

Max's lips part automatically. “... What?”

“I don't remember... Any of it.” Chloe explains slowly, her voice a gentle tone, as if raising it any louder would scare Max away forever. “I, um, I woke up, what was it, like, six months ago? In a hospital bed. I was, I don't know, wounded or something. But my body didn't... _hurt_ , you know? I felt fine, I felt normal. Then this nurse came in and she–she told me that my name was Chloe Price, and that I've been in a coma for a long time. And I couldn't–couldn't wrap my head around it cause I couldn't fucking remember anything. But she didn't tell me any more than that. All she did was hand me my clothes, some money, and she told me to leave.” Chloe sighs, running a hand over her face. “Fuck, I was _so_ confused. I had no fucking idea what to do.”

“In a... coma?” Max's lips are numb. Her fingers are numb. Her entire body is... numb. She can't believe this. “You don't remember... _anything_?”

Chloe hesitates. “Um, I sometimes get... I don't know, bits and pieces? Like that thing about my dad. The one with the Chinese proverb? I remembered that a few weeks ago... It just... came out of nowhere. Like some fucking bus.” She bites her lip. “Max, you believe me?”

Max shakes her head roughly, amazement painted across her face. “Of course I believe you, Chloe! Like I said, stranger things have happened!”

“So you...” Chloe swallows. “You really think... I could be the Chloe Price from Arcadia Bay?”

Max has no doubt. “Everything happens for a reason... Right?”

“Ha.” Chloe clicks her tongue. “Right.”

“Chloe, I'm serious.”

Her gaze flickers upwards to match Max's. She looks so scared. So unsure. “But how could I have died and come back? I mean, when I woke up, I didn't have a single scratch on me, I felt like fucking superwoman.”

Max stares at a point on the ground, digging through the possibilities. “Maybe... Maybe when I messed with time and fucked with all those... alternate realities... Maybe I created... Two Chloe's?” She hesitates, balling her hands into fists. “In my nightmare, before we made it to the lighthouse on that last day, there were... two of me. The other me was the version of me I created when I saved William, it was the version of me that–” Max grits her teeth, feeling nauseous all of a sudden. “–that was friends with Victoria and Nathan and hung out in Vortex Clubs. God, I was–I was _so_ different.”

Chloe raises an eyebrow, the corner of her lips quirking up in a smirk. “You in the Vortex Club? I can hardly imagine.”

“Yeah, that goes for the both of us.” Max sighs. “Maybe the same thing happened when I came back. Maybe–I don't know, I fucked with time, _anything_ could've happened.” She takes a moment to process this, whilst simultaneously making sure Chloe knows that she's considering all the options, all the possibilities, because she cares, by gently stroking her thumb over the surface of her hand. “Whatever happened... I'm just glad you're here now. With me.”

Chloe smiles, and reaches forward to pull her into an embrace. Max blushes when her face comes in contact with Chloe's chest. She can hear her heartbeat. It's so fast. And _so_ alive. “Always, Max.” She whispers, kissing her lightly atop her head. “Always.”

The sun is just about dipping into the horizon, leaving a beautiful stretch of orange and red and yellow in its wake, illuminating the sky and water alike with colors that can only ever be captured by the naked eye. There needn't be any contrast or saturation added in the real world, because true beauty is all that you see at first glance, all that you feel and hear and smell –like this, right here, right now, in Max's warming chest. Her heart. God, she's missed this feeling. She can feel Chloe's chest rise up and down in synchronization with her steady breathing, her hand slowly running down the side of her back, and her breath blowing lightly against the top of her head. Everything about this moment is perfect. So Max shuts her eyes, and pray.

_Please don't take this away from me. Please._

“This is seriously the best view of the sunset.” Chloe whispers softly, staring off into the giant orange ball of fire in awe. “What do you photographers call that?”

Max raises her head, untangling herself from Chloe's embrace, and stares at her with wide, unblinking eyes. “The golden hour.” She whispers back.

Chloe throws her a look, sunlight cascading over the features on her stunning, prepossessing face. “See? Without you here, I'd have no clue.” She whispers, smiling, a gentle fold of beauty, before leaning down to bury her nose in Max's hair. She breathes her in like a drug, hungry for an escape, and says, “I'm so glad that I'm alive here with you, Max.”

Max's chest tightens, and she pulls herself closer into Chloe's intoxicating embrace. “Me too, Chloe.” She says unwaveringly. “Me too.”

 

* * *

 

Two days, come and gone, barely a minute to second-guess the decisions Max has made and the actions she has taken to make sure Chloe stays by her side, no matter the cost. Although there doesn't seem to be any signs of a life-threatening tornado that'll attack the coast of Los Angeles anytime soon, there's still the impending threat of being torn apart by reality's cruel fucking grasp. Fate wants them to be together, sure, but the world can be twisted as fuck when it comes to destiny. Max knows this firsthand. She gave up the only person who mattered to her for a town that's barely grateful. A few couple dozen to remember, maybe five to completely treasure, yet the one person who she wants most is put into the ground for a sacrifice nobody will ever know of. Yeah, the world is fucking twisted. But Max'll be damned if she lets Chloe go again. Come what may, Max will wait out the storm for Chloe, and she won't be leaving anymore.

She sits here now, on a bench by the local roller ring, surrounded by people of different ages and sizes, trying to sub-consciously tie her shoelaces without thinking about how fucking cool Chloe looked in her rollerblades. She shakes her head at her preoccupation. _I think this amount of dedication is a little unhealthy. Might wanna tone it back, just a little bit._ So instead of thinking about cool Chloe in her kickass rollerblades, she thinks about the feel of cool Chloe's arms around her waist, guiding her around the ring so that she doesn't fall – again – and hurt her wrist – again. Max sighs, running a hand over her face. _This is getting me nowhere._

“Yo Max!” Chloe calls from the other side of the ring.

Max looks up and waves.

“You want a sundae?”

A grin splits her face. “Hella yeah!”

Chloe comes jogging back a minute later with two sundaes in both hands. She hands Max the chocolate one, complete with cookie crumbs and a shitload of sprinkles. In comparison, Chloe's –plain vanilla with some chocolate sprinkles on top –seems to lack the same amount of artistry. “Alright, let's bounce. This place reeks of feet and we deserve a walk down memory lane. And by that I mean the pier. Because, y'know,” she shrugs sheepishly. “It's kinda like Arcadia Bay and all.”

Max stares at the sundae in her hand before getting up to join her departing partner. She takes a bite, savoring the taste, but inside, all she can think about is how this is the exact way she has always eaten her sundaes in the past sixteen years, ever since William first bought one for her. Chocolate with cookie crumbs and sprinkles. New Chloe didn't know that, and had no way to obtain that kind of information. But old Chloe does.

“Chloe!” Max shouts, racing up to her friend and intertwining their fingers. “Thanks for the sundae.” She says, grinning. “And the lessons.”

Chloe laughs. “I bet you secretly still have those rewind powers of yours. And you've been looping the whole thing over and over again just to feel the touch of my fingers.” She wiggles her fingers for effect.

Max, in turn, rolls her eyes, though the grin is still playing loosely on her lips. “You wish, dude.”

“I do wish.” Chloe teases, nudging her lightly. “But fuck that, normal Max is cuter anyways.”

Of course, Max ends up blushing, which is so embarrassing because she should be used to Chloe's flirting by now.

They stroll along the pier for about half an hour, going through the memories as routinely so. This time, Max decides to bring up their first time in Chloe's room, going into excruciatingly vivid detail, describing the way her walls were just completely covered with posters of naked women, which was kind of the reason Max had assumed that there was something more going on with Chloe's absolute devotion to Rachel. She brings up Rachel too, and how strongly Chloe felt towards her, how Chloe would've do anything for her, how broken she was after finding her body buried in the junkyard. The memory is painful, at the very least, because Max can't deny that she had been jealous of Rachel. Even now, talking about it again, realizing how much Chloe loved her, shit, it hurts, it does, she'll admit it.

“But I'm also grateful that she was there when I wasn't.” Max says, staring semi-distantly at the wooden planks below her feet. “I mean, I don't even wanna imagine what would've happened if you'd been alone all those years.” She sighs. “I was a bitch, Chloe.”

Chloe remains silent, but her fingers come up to squeeze Max gently on the shoulder.

“When David – your, uh, step-father, who you didn't exactly like, by the way – came home, you rushed me into your closet, because he'd freak if he'd found out I was there. But, apparently, something worse was already underway, because when he came up into your room, he found your joint. And he was–he was _pissed_.” Max laughs almost to herself. “And I couldn't just stand there and watch you get reamed by him, so I took the fall for you. And I never regretted it, because you were so happy that I did, and I got one step closer to gaining your trust again.” She purses her lips, thinking back to that complicated time. “Thinking about it now, I think all I ever wanted was to get your trust back again.”

Chloe subtly tugs on her hand, and though Max feels the contact, she's far too deep inside her own memories to heed any mind to it.

“You should've seen the look on your face when I proved to you I actually had powers. It was _priceless._ Yes, pun intended–”

“Max–”

“–and the lighthouse. Holy shit, the lighthouse. What a whirlwind of emotions. We spent hours there as kids just... playing pirate and planning to take over the town. When we went back there, it felt like nothing's changed. Being there with you again made me feel so–”

“Max, please–”

“–alive, you know? Like no time has passed at all. Like you and I were kids again... except with all these... major problems. Like Rachel and my powers and–”

“For fuck's sake, Max, stop!” And this time, when Chloe tugs on her hand, she does it with enough force to stop Max from going any further.

Max turns around, stunned, completely taken aback by the sudden change of composure. She hadn't realized Chloe had stopped walking. Or that her face has suddenly gone pale. Or that her entire aura has shifted from positive to downright destructive in less than five minutes. Worry invades every particle of Max's being, and she rushes up to her without needing permission to do so.

“Chloe?”

Chloe sighs heavily, avoiding Max's gaze by looking out into the ocean.

“Chloe,” Max swallows, reaching out nervously to take her hand. “What's wrong?”

It takes a whole moment for Chloe to respond. “I know that–I know that we've gone through this already. And that we've... _established_ a kind of, I don't know, equilibrium in our conversations between the past and the present but–” She exhales through her nose, working her jaw as if the words are there, but just barely out of reach. “It still kinda feels... like you're only with me because of _her_.”

Max opens her mouth, but shuts it close. _Oh no._

“And yeah, I get it, there's a possibility that we're the same person because freak-zone and all. But I still kinda think that that's all you see in me.” Chloe's voice takes on an almost bitter tone. “And I wanna be more to you than just your dead ex best friend come to life. I wanna also be the Chloe who asked you out to the park, and took you round the carousel, and–”

“Chloe,” Max steps closer, leaning into Chloe's beautiful face. “You _are_ more than that to me. You're–You're everything to me, my whole life, I would give up _anything_ for you–”

“And that's the thing, Max.” Chloe takes a step back. She _actually_ takes a step back. If that doesn't strike a nerve in Max's heart, then her next sentence does. “You would give up anything for _her._ For the Chloe Price you let die.”

_Oh my god, this isn't happening._

“And I want to believe that I can be there for you, Max, that I can stay with you and deal with not having memories and at the same time, accept her existence as mine but–but it just feels... _wrong_. I don't _want_ to be her. Especially after all the shit you told me, I mean, my dad _died_ , you bail on me for years, my mother gloms onto some step-fucker–”

Max pulls away, burning. _Holy fuck, this isn't happening again. No, no, no, no, please God, no._

“–how the fuck am I supposed to act like this doesn't faze me? Like I was once this messed up girl who blamed everyone for everything bad going on in her life?”

“ _Chloe_ , please, you don't understand–” Max hesitates, realizing that this is the absolute wrong thing to say.

Chloe's features harden, and in that split second of transformation, Max sees a complete shift in dimensions take over the world around her. And suddenly it isn't Chloe Price standing in front of her anymore.

It's Max's dead best friend.

“No, Max. _You_ don't understand.” She says in a growl, her brows pulls firmly downwards in an expression that Max has hoped she'd never have to see again. Or, at least, not like _this_. “I've spent _months_ trying to come to terms with my... condition _._ Months trying to piece together what was left of my life, which was nothing at all, by the way, and even though I had all that time, I never _once_ felt good about myself for all the scenarios I've tried to come up with. I mean, maybe I was some lost princess in a faraway country. Maybe I was a homeless orphan who took a fall down a ditch but wasn't lucky enough to die right then and there. And sure, Zack sympathized, because he knew, and he wanted to be there for me. I even had a few friends back when I was still in that stupid fucking Rock for Life club try to take me in their arms and turn me into one of their punk minions but what did that ever amount to? Nothing. Nobody _really_ cared about why I lost all my fucking memories, or why I'm even here in the first place. Everybody cares until they don't. Even you, Max Caulfield.”

Max takes a step back, then another. Their proximity becomes almost insufferable, no amount of distance can eradicate the guilt bubbling up inside of her, the dread pooling her insides with thoughts of suicide at every corner. Her knees feel weak, her body feels numb, every inch of her brain is itching to explode, as if that can somehow take the pain and guilt and regret away forever. She thought that she had seen the last of reality's cruel twists, she thought that they were finally clear of tornadoes and twisters to edge her into an impossible choice, but she was wrong. The twister's back, and it's deadlier than ever.

_I wish you would have never come back to Arcadia Bay. You're the real storm._

Chloe's voice rings in her head like an automated bell, echoing, smashing, burning.

_You're the real storm._

Max looks up, but her vision is blurred with tears. “Chloe, I–” She chokes on her own words, struggling with her footing. “I have to–I have to go.”

She turns on her heels, nearly losing her balance in the process, and races off in the opposite direction. Because that's what she's always done.

Run.

Run from the tornado.

Run from Chloe.

Run from reality.

But this time, no matter how far her legs carry her, she knows she'll never truly escape. Her past will always be there to catch up with her.

It will always be there to bury her alive.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chloe should be the real storm. Because she savage asf.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is it, guys! Final chapter! The Grand Finale! 
> 
> Thank you guys for ALL your support. Seriously, it's been amazing. I hadn't expected to receive so many comments, you guys literally make my day!
> 
> <3

**CHAPTER FIVE**

 

Max sits with her head buried between her knees, locked away in the confinements on her room, completely unaware of the time, date, or year. All she knows is that there's a pain in her chest so suffocating, she's afraid it might swallow her whole. But maybe that might not be so bad. At least dead, she'll be restricted of her careless waste of tornadoes. At least dead, she won't have to worry about being another shitstorm in somebody else's life.

Chloe deserves better than her.

She opens her fisted hand to reveal the necklace hidden within, still cold from the frosty air inside her compact room, biting into her skin like a metal demon. Three golden bullets lie at the center of a black chain. Chloe's necklace. She's kept it ever since her... passing. And she never found the will to let it go. Even to the Chloe who exists today. Because despite her shit excuses and fluffy feelings, everything that Chloe said on the pier was right.

She wants the old Chloe back. She wants her best friend back. She wants their memories to live on in _both_ their minds. She knows it's selfish, she knows that she should be glad that Chloe is even alive.

But they went through so much together. So-fucking-much. And yet, she's the only one who remembers them. What kind of bullshit world does this?

She blinks. And suddenly she's standing there, at the top of the lighthouse, witnessing a giant twister inch closer to the coast of her hometown, threatening to swallow up everything she has ever known and loved. Rain beats down on her harshly, wind cutting through her skin like cold blades, hail pelting her across the head, debris soaring in the air and yet despite it all, all she can feel is Chloe's lips pressed passionately over hers. Warm. Loving. Inviting.

Chloe pulls away, and takes a breath.

 

 _I'll_ always _love you..._

 

Max stares into Chloe's beautiful eyes, corrupted by the tears dripping down her face. She takes a step back. Then another. And another.

 

_Now, get out of here, please! Do it before I freak._

 

_And Max Caulfield? Don't you forget about me._

 

Max parts her lips, ignoring the clump in her throat and the shattering of her heart.

 

 _Never_.

 

Three knocks on the door jolts her out of her trance. She looks up, wiping the sweat off her forehead as she pushes herself off the bed and attempt, successfully, to regain her balance. She looks out the window. Barely bright. Nearly sundown, she assumes. Pushing her anxiety down below, she takes a few hesitant steps forward and unlocks the door, pulling it open by only a few inches.

Chloe stands on the other side, wet and soggy and completely miserable.

Max tenses. “Chloe–”

“Before you say anything,” Chloe cuts her off, raising a finger. “Your apartment does a really good job at hiding the fucking downpour outside.”

Max's gaze softens, and she opens the door wide to allow her dripping friend inside. Chloe's hesitant at first, stepping into the closeted little apartment, weary, unsure, but she takes in her surroundings, observing the several little trinkets lying around that completely highlight Max's unique, introverted personality. And, of course, there are the pictures. Polaroids adorn the walls with so much color and life. Some are of landscapes, some portraits of random people, some of buildings and artifacts and cool graffiti. Most, however, she realizes in a wave of guilt, are of her and Max, from both past and present. She's kept most of the ones taken in the past in that little metal box. But some others, she's hung up around the room. Obvious enough to catch the eye.

“Here, um, let me take your jacket, you must be soaked.” Max offers.

Chloe glances at her from over her shoulder and smiles, shrugging her dripping jacket off. “Yeah, I was–Well, I mean, I found myself in a shop about two blocks down and... and I wanted to know how you were doing so–”

“So you just walked all the way up here?” Max asks, carrying the jacket into the kitchen and squeezing the water out over the sink. She looks over at the corner and tips her chin off at some little white cloth. “You can use that towel over there to dry off.”

Chloe nods, taking slow steps before reaching the designated object. “Look, I–I felt bad about what happened.” She sighs, throwing the towel over her head. “Max, I'm so sorry. I didn't–I didn't mean any of those stupid things I said.”

Max tenses, visibly, but Chloe misses it this time round. “Sure you did.” She whispers, almost inaudibly. “And you were right. I wasn't–I wasn't being fair to you.”

“No, Max,” Chloe takes two steps towards her and grabs her by the hands, squeezing them tightly in hers. Her skin is cold, because of the rain, no doubt. But the contact is still, somehow, so fucking warm. “Please, hear me out.”

Max has no reason to refuse, other than the pain in her chest threatening to swallow her whole.

“I don't know what happened. One minute, I was listening to you, watching you, having fun cause that's what I always do _with you_. And then suddenly, I was feeling this adrenaline spike, like I was high and I needed to unload. I was–I was just so pissed at the world. Like I had these feelings from memories that I never got back! Shit, it's so fucked up. Everything came crashing down at once. I was so angry and depressed and I decided to take it out on you, cause I felt, I don't know, a little insecure that you were so in love with this Chloe girl and–” She shakes her head, looking away. “I just–I fucking messed up, Max.”

Max wants to understand. She wants to forgive. She wants to move on. But she can't. It's been bothering her and ignoring it would only hurt them both. She releases a low sigh through her nose and says, “Chloe, I was the one who messed up. I–I thought I could make things right again. Like before. I should've known that I was gonna screw everything up if I did, but I tried it anyways and–”

“Max, this isn't a repeat.” Chloe says assuredly, squeezing Max's hands in hers. “This _isn't_ a fucking repeat, okay? I'm not gonna die again, and no tornado's gonna come tearing the city apart. I swear to you.”

“ _I'm_ the tornado, Chloe.” Max cries, forcing back tears. “I've _always_ been the tornado. Me! I thought maybe it was my powers. I messed time up, I screwed with everything, so reality starts to break apart, and brings the tornado to clear away everything I've changed! But it isn't _just_ that, I'm so–so prone to all these fucking mistakes, I'm carrying everything inside of me! It wasn't the power that messed everything up, it was _me_!”

“Stop it!” Chloe releases her hold on Max's hands and instead grabs her by the shoulder, shaking her just harshly enough to snap her back to reality. “Stop beating yourself up, okay? We've both paid our dues already on that.”

Max hesitates, but she no longer pains to hear these sentences come out of her mouth. It's obvious, clear as the fucking day, that this Chloe is the same Chloe who died a year ago. Her memories might not be there, but somewhere deep inside her sub-conscious, she knows and she remembers. And she feels the same way, she even said it herself. Her depression never left, it was always there, suppressed by a confusion of why it exists in the first place. God, Max was an idiot to not have seen this until now. She would've loved her no matter what.

“It wasn't _your_ fault Max. You couldn't have possibly known what would've happened. You didn't ask for the powers, and you _saved_ me. Jesus, how do you think anyone else would've reacted if they had your powers? I for sure would've fucking wasted it all away. You did _everything_ you could to save them. And you did.”

Max bites her lip, fingernails digging tightly into the skin of her palm. “But I sacrificed you, Chloe.” Her voice is barely a whisper now, almost a strain to her throat. “I did everything I could to save you and then–and then I–”

“Bullshit, Max.” Chloe says. “I told you to sacrifice me, didn't I? You needed to save everybody. And my mom–my mom gave up and lived through so much. She–She deserved so much more than to be killed by a storm in a fucking diner.” Max is now crying, for more reasons than just this little pep-talk. “ _You_ saved her, you saved her for me, and you–Max, you did everything you could. No matter what would've happened, I was _so_ glad to have spent that last week with you, it was–it was the best farewell gift I could've hoped for, and I–” Chloe stops, suddenly, abruptly, and in less than a second, she's breaking down in sobs.

Max reaches out and pulls her in, tightening her grip around her body as if loosening it would destroy her forever. She digs her fingers into her hair, completely ignoring the fact that water has now seeped into her own clothing, pressing into her skin. Instead she holds Chloe, tightly, possessively, and she realizes with utmost relief that the storm has passed. At least, for the time being. And this time, it takes neither Arcadia Bay nor Chloe Price with it. The weather, for now, has calmed. And Max plans to keep it this way, no matter what.

No one will take Chloe away from her ever again.

 

* * *

 

The rain stopped eventually. And after calming down and changing into new sets of clothing, Max suggests to take Chloe to the park, to finish off the day with something... beautiful and soothing. Chloe, after making a not-so-subtle joke about how Max just wanted to get laid somewhere dirty, agrees, combing her fingers through her damp hair and placing her semi-wet beanie back on top of it. They leave the apartment at a half past five, making their way downtown to the park where their connection first began blossoming.

 _Well, I mean Treble Grounds was where we met._ Max thinks cheekily, pondering this debatable fact. _But the park was where everything started... unfolding. As much as I hate to admit this, Chloe was right – yet again. That spot opposite the lake has the_ best _view of the sunset._

Halfway to the park, Chloe reaches out and takes Max's hand in hers. She laces their fingers together, as if by instinct, and pulls her in closer, until their arms brush against each other as they walk. Max doesn't mind. And her rapturous grin is a clear sign of that.

They make their way to their usual spot, once again secluded and near empty after the downpour just a few minutes ago. The ground is slightly damp, but Max made sure to bring a picnic blanket, because she's smart and resourceful that way. Chloe makes a joke about that too, but Max is too busy admiring her wonderful form as she stretches to react completely to it. They sit down together and watch the sun dip below the horizon. Like all the times they've watched this scene, the only thing Max can think of is how grateful she is that Chloe is here with her. Except this time, she no longer possesses a hidden dread that Chloe's memories will never come back. She no longer fears for the unexpected that might or might not come in the near future. Instead she savors the spontaneity of the moment. Chloe will be here, with her, no matter what happens. With or without her old memories... Chloe's still Chloe. And Max loves her for who she is, not for what they've been through together.

She smiles against the sun, now half-drowned in the blue of the lake. “It's been a crazy few weeks, huh?”

Chloe laughs, rolling her eyes. “Yeah, you can say that again.”

“I'm glad you're here with me, Chloe.”

Chloe shoots her a smile, shy in its form. “And I'm never leaving you again, Max.”

Max smiles, settling her head atop her knees, staring at Chloe in a way she's never done before. She takes a deep breath, not lifting her gaze from Chloe's face, and then, slowly, she pulls away, and reaches into her pocket. Chloe looks over, curious. When Max reopens her palms, she's taken by a whirlwind of emotions to see the bullet necklace sitting idly in her hand.

“This was Chloe's.” Max whispers, smiling. “I was so afraid to let go of it. So... scared to relive the same mistakes over and over again.”

Chloe's features soften. “Max...”

Max bites her lip, remembering the way it stood out against Chloe's thin neck, how dangerous its existence in Chloe's life seemed to be, how well it fit Chloe's badass personality. She can laugh at the thought now. “It was never enough for me I guess. To just... have you back. I guess I–I wanted you to remember everything. All that we ever did together. All that we went through together.” She grits her teeth. “I was stupid, Chloe.”

“Max, that's not true.” Chloe reaches out to take her shoulder, shaking her gently. “I mean, I would believe that if you'd had constantly tried to get me to remember shit from the past, you know? If that was your sole purpose of being around me. But it wasn't. Cause you gave me new memories to live by.” She hesitates, before saying, “You gave me hope.” Then she groans loudly and turns away. “That was so fucking lame. Kill me please.”

Max laughs, feeling light-headed and dizzy from this one moment alone. She takes a moment to breathe, before smiling. “Not even if there was a storm threatening to sink the whole of California.”

Chloe glances at her, hesitating. “I didn't mean–”

“I know, Chloe.” Max says softly. “The thing is, I've been scared of what might happen. I've been scared of having to give you up again. Somehow. Someway. Because the world sure likes its twists and turns, and anything can happen. Even to a time-traveler.” She sighs, before looking back up, all smiles and rosy cheeks. “But now–now I get it. I can't keep getting hung up on what might happen just because I lost you once before. You're here now. That's all I've ever wanted.” She raises her palm, still clutching the golden bullet necklace, dangling by a black chain. “Chloe, I want you to have it.”

Chloe looks up at her, eyes wide. “What?”

Max repositions herself so that she can place it over Chloe's neck, lowering it slowly, gently. “I love you for who you are, Chloe Price. And I'd never give you up for anyone else, past or future.”

“But Max–” Chloe whispers, hesitating. “I might still be the best friend you lost back in Arcadia Bay.”

Max tilts her head slightly to the side. “And if you are, why would it matter?” Chloe opens her mouth to object, but Max instantly cuts her off. “Chloe, I love _you_. I love _everything_ that you are, past, present, future. I don't wanna keep holding onto the possibility that you _might_ be her anymore. Cause I know, despite it all, that you're the Chloe I fell in love with. And you always will be.”

Chloe pulls away, stunned. She hadn't expected this. But maybe more than that, she hadn't expected to _feel_ this way about this. She knows that she was a dick to have accused her of all those things back at the pier. She knows that somewhere inside of her, there's a person dying to break free, the person she was before, angry and desperate and alone. And she knows that if there's anybody in this world who can help her get through whatever memory block she has going on right now, it'd be Max. Beautiful, sweet Max. Who she fell in love with too. Who she's always been in love with. Even when Max was keeping from heaving her guts out at the sidewalk of her store, Chloe felt undeniably attached to her. It's–It's an indescribable phenomenon, and she'd be crazy to just go along with it all. But Max is right.

Stranger things have happened.

Staring at Max, watching her eyes soften as they land on the lake before them, enjoying her warmth and her smile and her presence–Chloe can hardly contain the feelings bubbling up inside of her right now. It's as if nothing can touch her. Nothing can hurt her again. Nothing can hurt _them_. And then in a snap, she gets jolted out of her thoughts, out of her world. She blinks. And blinks again. The entire universe around her shifts before her eyes as a blue butterfly flutters along the spines of the tree behind them, beating its wings to the steady rhythm inside Chloe's chest. She takes a breath, and the entire view changes.

 _She_ changes.

“Max.”

“Hm?”

“I remember.”

Max doesn't respond instantly. She processes her words, digesting it carefully, until she's forcefully pulled out of her trance by the realization. She raises her head and stares directly into Chloe's wide, unblinking eyes. “What?”

“I remember.” Chloe repeats, her voice barely above a whisper. “I remember everything.”

Max feels her hands start to tremble again, but this time, she makes no move to keep them from shaking. “Chloe, what are you–”

“I remember William and Joyce and David. I remember–I remember Nathan, and Rachel–Oh god, Rachel.” She reaches up to cover her mouth, utter disbelief painted across the entirety of her face. “Max, I remember _everything_! You're back! And I'm back and–and holy _shit_ , Max we're alive! Fuck, we're alive!” By now, she's already pulled Max into a suffocating embrace, squeezing the very life out of her bones as if there's nothing else in the universe to hold onto. And Max, realizing what has just happened, feels the world around her tip over, unsteadily.

“Chloe!” She breaths after pulling away. “I can't believe this!”

“Me neither!” Chloe breathes, laughing, crying –God, this is too much. “Everything–Everything just came back to me at once! I can hardly breathe here, I'm like, fuck, I'm a fucking mess! I remember _everything_ , oh my god, Max!”

Max feels the smile on her face stretch across her skin, pulling against the tendrils of her heart, warming her down to her very bones. “Chloe!” She starts crying. As usual. She throws her arms around her shoulders and pulls her in, giggling along with Chloe's uneven bouts of laughter. “This is crazy! I can't–I can't even believe this!”

“Well, hella believe it, baby.” Chloe laughs into her ear, pulling Max away and giving her a giant kiss on the forehead. “Told ya we're bonded for life.”

Max blushes, tears once again threatening to spill from her eyes. But just this time, she keeps them at bay. She'll save them for later, for when the reality of it finally presses down on her, and she's so overcome with joy that she _has_ to cry or she'll completely lose her sanity. For now, she'll just continue smiling, and staring, at her amazing, fearless, blue butterfly. At her best friend. Back from the dead. Reunited with her. It doesn't matter why or how it happened. They've accepted, a long time ago, that they'll never find out. All that matters now is that they're together. And they're alive. And they're safe.

And they _remember_.

The sunset disappears beyond the horizon completely, and the stars seem to surround them within a blanket of darkness. The butterfly, still seated along the spine of the unsuspecting tree, bats its wings in the air, before taking off into the night in a streak of blue. Chloe just barely manages to catch it fleeing before it disappears, noticing a strange familiarity about this moment, an almost nostalgic sensation. Right. The blue butterfly. They saw it in the bathroom just before Max first used her powers. She looks down, completely forgetting about the sudden realization, as Max's hand snakes its way up her neck to cup her burning cheek.

“I love you so much, Chloe.” Max whispers, no longer able to contain it.

Chloe grins through her tears, taking Max's face in her hand. “I–I honestly don't know why it took me so long to say this, or _do_ this. But fuck,” she leans forward and presses her lips passionately against Max's, pulling her face in closer as if the proximity can't ever be enough, as if just capturing her lips won't fully express how fucking _happy_ she is just to be with Max, just to remember her and to love her. Max responds with the same amount of intensity, if not more so, the emotions in her chest bursting out of control. When they pull away, Chloe still has that teary grin on her burning face. “I'll always love you, Max.” She leans in again and kisses her lightly. “Don't you forget that.”

Max smiles through the kiss, reaching out to touch the bullet necklace around Chloe's slim neck, before dragging her hand down her arm and to her fingers, intertwining them and holding them tight.

 

“Never.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that you've completed this arduous journey, I'm here to make a - good, maybe? - announcement! 
> 
> I'm adding a sixth chapter, solely to document Chloe's first moments after she wakes up six months before this story takes place. A lot of you have been questioning things about the... legitimacy of this situation. And, admittedly, though I've never thought much of it, I'm a little unnerved that you guys might not be satisfied with an ending that provides no closure. When I got my girlfriend to read this, she was completely happy with the way things ended, because she liked that they no longer cared for why it's happening or how or what and bla bla bla, because in essence, this fic was supposed to be light and fluffy to begin with. But, since you guys are questioning things, I might as well just throw another chapter into the rug and, hopefully, provide some sort of closure. I'll post it tomorrow.
> 
> There will be notes at the end of that chapter to fully express my thoughts on why it happened the way it did. So don't go commenting till you read those end notes. Of course, you guys reading that final chapter is completely optional, since it doesn't exactly affect the story that much, it's just a prequel to, hopefully, give you a sense of satisfaction. 
> 
> Thank you all again, seriously. This story wouldn't have existed without y'all. Or maybe it would've. But it wouldn't have been posted hehe. 
> 
> -Kye


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Read at your own risk.

**CHAPTER SIX**

 

She wakes up in a dark hospital room with a throbbing migraine that wrecks her body with pain.

She flinches at the hard bite of something metallic on her wrists, glancing down at the shiny silver cuffs curved around them. She tugs on them, harshly, aggressively, gritting her teeth together as pain explodes within her arms. _Fuck_. She looks around, adjusting her blurry eyes, trying to get a proper visual of her surroundings, trying to understand what the _fuck_ is going on. Of course, she remembers nothing. Which is great. It's like the start of some cheap action-adventure movie, starring none other than her. She doesn't even remember her name. Shit, what the hell is going on?

She takes a breath, then another, shutting her eyes as another wave of pain crashes over her. She blinks a couple of times to clear her nebulous vision, then looks up, allowing herself a moment to completely evaluate her surroundings.

At first glance, it might seem like an ordinary hospital room – standard bed, standard tiles, standard curtains, standard seats. Except something dodgy lurks around every corner and she, despite just having woken up, is incredibly perceptive of the way the room was built. It reminds her, so eerily, of something sinister and threatening. It's void of windows, void of proper doors, void of any indication of the outside world. It's a room, blockaded from the society, completely tucked away in a secluded area to keep curious minds from prying. Or, at least, that's what it seems like. The stillness and silence doesn't make her feel any better about it either.

She looks around. A clock, a few sofas, a table, a photo of some fruit and hospital equipment. She shudders when her gaze lands on the IV struck deep into her right arm. She's never been a fan of hospitals. It creeps the hell out of her.

Except she doesn't remember why.

“Hello?” She calls out, wincing when her voice, unrecognizable to her ears, escapes her mouth in a flurry of panic.

She curses, struggling against the handcuffs strapping her to the bed. Why the hell would she need to be handcuffed? Was she some kind of criminal?

Answers come quicker than she expected, because as soon as she thinks this, the sound of footsteps come echoing down the room. She looks up, frightened and unnerved at all the possibilities, as a young lady, presumably the nurse, walks through an opening on the other side of the compact expanse with a tray in her hands. On the top of the tray is an array of bottles, along with a cup of water – which makes her mouth go dry with thirst, – a shirt, jeans and a dark jacket, and a few wet towelettes. The nurse does a double-take when she looks up, staring, wide-eyed, at the girl with her hands trembling in front of her.

The girl, in turn, lashes out. “Where am I?!” She screams. “What the hell is going on?!”

Of course, the nurse doesn't directly respond to that. She has a mask over her face, covering everything below the eyes, and brunette hair, tied loosely into a short ponytail. She blinks, as if to fully register the sight of this girl alive and awake, before taking a hesitant step forward, then another. She makes her way to the table beside her and places the tray down.

“Please,” The girl whispers, hesitating when the nurse draws closer. “I don't–I don't know what's going on.”

The nurse furrows her brows, before reaching out to feel her forehead. “How long have you been awake?” Her voice–Her voice is surprising. After her reaction, the girl on the bed had expected something small, something stunned, something cautious, maybe. But this woman's voice is far from those. It's strong and certain and confident.

“I–I don't know, like ten minutes?” She stutters, pulling away at the contact involuntarily.

The nurse pulls her hand away and takes the cup of water. “Here, I bet you're thirsty.”

The girl doesn't say anything but she nods, and as the nurse brings the cup up to her lips, they part almost automatically to accept the gracious gift of salvation.

The nurse watches her drink with eyes so intense the girl has to completely ignore them to not feel totally self-conscious. It's a little intimate, to be honest. “How do you feel? Any pain anywhere?”

She shakes her head, licking her lips as the nurse places the cup back down. “Just a killer headache.” She says.

“And your memories?”

She blinks. “Memories?”

The nurse glances at her, dropping a few pills from one of the bottles on the tray onto her gloved hand. “Do you remember anything?”

The girl hesitates. “N-No, I told you. I don't know what's going on. Why am I chained?!” She jangles her cuffs to emphasize her point.

Instead of answering her question however, the nurse simply raises the pills to level the girl's mouth. “Here, take this. It'll take care of the headache.”

“I'm not taking anything until you tell me what the fuck is going on.”

And then, surprisingly, after a full second of stunned silence, the nurse laughs. The girl pulls away, flinching. She clearly hadn't meant to provoke that kind of reaction.

“Okay, what the fuck?” She blurts out, flushing.

The nurse looks at her with this mischievous glint in her eyes, and it's killing her, because she wants to know _why_ she looks as if she had just won the lottery. “Your personality wasn't affected I see.”

The girl narrows her gaze. “Affected by _what_?”

The nurse shrugs, offering the pills once again. “You want an end to your 'killer headache' or what?”

Admittedly, she does. And as much as she wants answers, she wants the pain to stop just as much, because she can barely think through all this noise in her head, buzzing like horny flies in mating season. Sighing, she opens her mouth, ready to accept these mysterious pills despite having no idea where she is or what the hell is going on. But since she's here and memory-less anyways, fuck it. She'll accept whatever this nurse has to offer. Even if she is a little sick to the head. The nurse gently places two white pills on the top of her tongue, before slowly tipping the cup of water down her mouth. It takes her three swallows to get them all down.

“All you need to know is that your name is Chloe Price.” The nurse says in deliberate confidence, enunciating each word as if a misunderstanding would lead to her inevitable death. “You've been in a coma for a long, long time.”

'Chloe' gulps. “How long?”

“Long enough for your body to feel very weak. I'm not expecting you to be able to walk properly until tomorrow.” The nurse now grabs the wet towelette and places it gently across Chloe's burning forehead. “But because of certain... circumstances, you're gonna have to leave _today_. Now that you're awake and all.”

Chloe raises an eyebrow. “I'm leaving... today?”

“Yes.” The nurse says, glancing at her.

What? Jesus, this is too much to handle. “Why?”

“Because it'll mess up everything otherwise.”

Chloe parts her lips, but the nurse places a finger over her mouth before she can get the words out.

“Don't. Just... Relax for now, okay? Your temperature needs to drop. And when it does,” She reaches into her pocket and fumbles around until she pulls out what she needs. It's a little key. Nothing fancy. Then again, as Chloe watches the nurse fit the key into her cuffs and release her from her agonizing chains, it feels like a hell lot better than some fancy gateway key to Narnia. “You'll be able to leave.”

“I still don't understand.” Chloe whispers, rubbing her sore wrists, strained to the point of bruising.

“Don't worry.” The nurse reassures her, placing a warm hand on her arm, stroking it lightly. The contact makes Chloe shiver with nerves. And maybe even something else. “You'll find out soon. I promise you.”

Chloe looks up and stares directly into this mystery woman's dull blue eyes. She looks older. Maybe 28, 29? Yet there's some touch of youth in her gaze, a mischievous, unbreakable spark of recklessness and abandon. Some parts of her look cautious, maybe even a little unsure of herself. Other parts look undoubtedly insane, as if this whole thing is the final piece to something greater. Does that even make sense? Chloe can't put her finger on it. Why does this woman seem so fucking familiar? Even her voice. It's crazy.

“Shit, Chloe.” The nurse's expression instantly softens, and she reaches out, unexpectedly, to stroke Chloe's cheek. “I thought you'd never come back.”

Chloe furrows her brows. She wants to speak up, wants to question her, maybe this point of vulnerability will finally get this mysterious chick to fess up and confess what's been going on. But for some reason, no matter how loud her mind is screaming at her to do it, she can't seem to get the words to leave her mouth. She swallows, questioning her own sanity, before looking away. The nurse mimics her movement, dropping her hand to her side and staring solemnly at the ground.

This intense, sickly silence follows them in their wake. Until finally, the nurse reaches out and takes the wet towelette from Chloe's cool forehead.

“Alright, your body should be back to its normal temperature.”

The nurse drops the towelette onto the tray and digs into her pocket for something else. Chloe leans over to get a closer look, but by the time the nurse drops what she was looking for atop the set of clothing, Chloe can already tell that it's money. Lots of it. Maybe a couple hundreds. She blinks a few times, trying to register the sight. This nurse is giving her money.

“What are you—”

“You're gonna need it to survive.” The nurse says casually. “I know it's not much but—”

“Not much? There has to be like eight hundred bucks in there!” Chloe stammers, leaning away as if the money was somehow corrupted by Satan himself.

The nurse chuckles, raising a curious eyebrow. “Chloe Price not accepting free cash? That's a first.”

Chloe scowls. “You make it sound like I'm some sort of freeloader.”

“Of a sort.” The nurse says cheekily, turning away. She makes her way to the door, and in some manic panic frenzy that Chloe can't quite understand, she reaches out to grab her wrist to stop her before she even leaves her side.

“Wait!”

The nurse looks over her shoulder, eyebrows raised.

“Who—Who are you?”

There's a silence that follows, one that the nurse uses to properly formulate her response. Of course, she had been expecting this. Much like Chloe had been expecting this woman to leave her sometime soon. And she should be glad, to be able to _leave_. But she has no idea what's going on. And she's afraid.

“I'm the storm.” The nurse says quietly, slowly, her brows furrowed in a way that makes Chloe wonder if she even knows what she's saying. “Come to kill the blue butterfly that keeps messing everything up.”

This answer shouldn't make sense. It shouldn't sound like something coming from a sane woman's mouth. But in a way, even though Chloe can barely understand it, it does.

“Good luck, Chloe.” The nurse smiles, before whirling around and leaving Chloe in the compact, empty room.

Chloe looks around, frightened now, a little nauseous, but also undeniably awake. The pills seem to have worked. Her headache no longer plagues her and her body feels as great as ever. She pushes herself off the bed, but as soon as her feet touch the ground, she falls in a spread of limbs and hair. Cursing, she pulls herself up, steadying herself with a grip on the railings before taking a deep breath. Clothes. She needs clothes. Slowly, she changes into the ones the nurse left on the tray beside her bed. A white tank-top, black jacket and dark ripped jeans. She wants to laugh at this choice of clothing. If she didn't know any better, she'd say she was a punk. She furrows her brows, playing with her hair, before glancing at it quickly.

They're blue.

As stealthily as she can, she grabs the money left behind and stuffs them into her pocket before attempting, once again, to walk out of the room. Her knees often give way, and she needs support from the walls to keep herself from completely toppling over, but she succeeds in leaving. Everything becomes a blur when she does. The walls, the ground, the stairway up, the strange entrance, the woods. She doesn't remember much when she emerges in a city fifteen minutes away from the strange facility. Some part of her thinks that maybe the pills weren't just to cure her pain. But also to dull a lot of her senses. So that when she leaves, she won't remember where she was. But why would that be so? Why would there be a need for so much secrecy? Shit, she has no idea what's going on.

But she's outside. And she's free. With a wild laugh, she pushes herself into a local motel and drops a few bills on the counter. “Room for one.” She says, short of breath, before grabbing the key dangling from the fingers of the clerk and making her way upstairs.

 

* * *

 

The nurse stands a little ways off, surrounded by the trees and blanketed by the evening darkness. She takes a deep breath, running her fingers through her liberated brown hair, now flowing freely in the wind. With her mask gone, her identity is clear for anyone to see. Because she no longer feels the need to hide herself. Her mission is completed. She secretly thanks the stars that Mark Jefferson had been a crazy psycho murderer. It was a horrible episode and she wished she'd been the one to pull the trigger on his disgusting, sick face, but if he hadn't owned that bunker down in the Prescott farmhouse, she wouldn't have been able to pull this off. She wouldn't have been able to save Chloe and give her another chance in life.

Because that's what she came back to do.

Save her.

And in the process, save herself.

She extends a hand, smiling to herself, and with a breath, she shuts her eyes and lets reality around her fade into a whirlwind of colors. The world around her shifts and turns, the borders of her vision, even through her eyelids, burn like a photograph on fire.

She reappears in the future. Nine years from the world she was just in.

She blinks herself awake, wondering when, and why, and where she is. She rolls over on her side, anticipating an empty spot on her queen-sized bed, as it always is, because she's been alone for nine years now, because she never found anybody who made her feel the same way Chloe did. But a body is sprawled across the sheets beside her. She pulls away, gasping, surprised at this sudden change of events.

The body groans, before turning around. Blue strands fall wildly across her face. “Max?” She whispers with a voice barely awake. “What's wrong? Are you okay?”

She blinks, taking everything in, taking _this_ in _._ Her face is aged, compared to the one she left behind nine years ago, with a few barely-visible thin lines stretching below her eyes and down the sides of her mouth. It's not a big change. But there's maturity now, there's experience, there's gratitude. God, she looks just as beautiful as ever. With a smile, Max leans forward and laughs. “Chloe,” She breathes, practically at the verge of crying. “Oh God, Chloe! You have _no_ idea what I've just been through.”

Chloe smirks, even through the haziness of sleep, and sluggishly props herself on her elbows. “Oh yeah?” She retorts sleepily, a devilish grin playing on her beautiful lips, a challenge burning in her fiery blue eyes. “Try me, Caulfield.”

 

 

 **~ FIN**  ~

* * *

 

Like I promised in the previous chapter, I will explain more in the end notes. Unfortunately, endnotes cannot be more than 5000 characters long. So I'll just add this here.

Here it is! A not-so logical explanation of this chapter that I couldn't quite fit in the story because there was no way of getting it across without going completely off the original tale.

Warning though, if you liked the way it ended, then maybe you shouldn't read this. Cause this might bring more questions than answer them. And, it's a little whacked and confusing. So... Yeah. Like the chapter itself, read at your own risk.

 

**Q & A**

**1 – What the FUCK just happened?**

Simple (or not.) Max got her rewind powers back in an alternate universe where Chloe Price _doesn't_ come back and she remains alone and depressed all her life (Because that whole “I'll get over you, Chloe” in the first chapter was a lie, in case you hadn't noticed from later on in the chapter, where she goes all crazed and in-love at the sight of her doppelganger again). Remember in Chapter Five when Max and Chloe reconcile at the end, a blue butterfly appears? Same thing happened when Max first got her powers, so, maybe a little subtly, it was an omen that she was going to get her powers back again. For what reason? Who knows. All I can assure you is that the same thing happens in that alternate universe, Max gets her powers back around this time in another dimension, when she's all alone and Chloe-less, and with that power, she goes back to undo the one thing that she regrets most. Instead of saving Chloe however, she just creates a third Chloe. Same way she created the second Max in her nightmare.

Confusing enough for you yet?

**2 – Okay, hold up. How the hell did she CREATE a third Chloe? Where did she get that kind of power?**

She's always been powerful to begin with. It's just that, with only a week to prepare and with her mind so focused on saving Chloe (and, of course, figuring out what the hell was happening in Arcadia Bay) she failed to fully reach her powers and tap into its full potential. But _come on_ , she has _time traveling_ powers. Obviously she could be powerful as fuck. Like, I don't know, freaking godly powerful even. Anyways, after she gets her powers again, she literally has _nine_ years to work them out. And, at this point, she can practically do anything. Like create a third Chloe by alternating dimensions. “But in both dimensions, Chloe dies!” you say, well, yes. But, with her super omnipotent powers, she finds a loophole, and helps Chloe cheat death by alternating dimensions and creating a whole new person, with both aspects of her personalities. (Take it or leave it, homie, this is as great an explanation as I can get without knowing a damn thing about quantum physics)

**3 – Alright, I'll bite. But I don't get why she didn't just save Chloe instead of creating a whole damn new one.**

Well, she tried. Hundreds of thousands of times. Each time though, something bad happens. Either Chloe dies, or the reality she's in is fucked up to the point of just being inhabitable. Max could've probably almost-died too. And maybe that scared her off. Anyways, point is, saving her from that bullet was _not_ an option. But saving her from time was.

**4 – That doesn't even make sense.**

It does! Chloe's one nemesis was time, right? I mean, time was the whole reason the tornado sucked in Arcadia Bay, time was the reason she couldn't get saved and had to get shot in the stomach! (For crying out loud though, it was a stomach wound, they could've gotten her help if they'd been quick enough!) So instead of saving her from the _bullet_ , Max saved her from _time._

Okay, you know what, _fine_ , that _doesn't_ make sense. You happy?

**5 – How was she helping Chloe as 28 years old Max when 18 years old Max still existed at the same time?**

Good question! Easy answer: She's omnipotent. She's trained for nine years. She's got time-travel practically completely figured out to the point of being able to exist in time when her previous self also existed. Complicated answer: I don't fucking know. Time travel's association with reality is like our association with the alien life forms who live in the Andromeda cluster. WE WILL NEVER FIND OUT.

**6 – Well then, how did 28 years old Max manage to stay back in time for four months looking after Chloe?**

Who ever said she stayed back four months? She only said Chloe was in a coma for a long, long time. That could've translated to anything. Fact of the matter is, Max could've literally just appeared like an hour ago, created Chloe, and left her there on the bed to wake up. OR... She could've used her superpowers to loophole another way to do exactly as you said, to “stay back in time for four months” to look after Chloe. Once again, we'll never find out.

**7 – So... How did she even get her powers back? And why?**

Max likes to think it's because of Chloe. Because she couldn't save her. Because she's depressed to the point of suicide, and she hates the world and everything it stands for. Yes, she managed to stay alive for nine years, but that was only because of her insane drive to save Chloe, to keep her alive. Unhealthy, you say? Nonsense! Max's dedication to Chloe is as healthy as a box of tater tots. But yes. She got her powers back because she loves Chloe. And she wants to bring her back to life.

**8 – This is so messed up. Why do I even care about all these illogical explanations?**

Beats me. Good to know that you agree that it's messed up though.

**9 – Okay, just to make some things clear and sunshiny so that the other readers won't completely combust and leave your sorry ass for good... Max and Chloe in the end are the same Max and Chloe who met at Treble Grounds and went through all that 'no memories' thing, right?**

Well, in essence, yes. Max is, obviously, a different person. That's a little hard to grasp. But after all that they've been through, you'd think this isn't exactly a big deal for them. Anyways, yes, Chloe is the same Chloe who lost her memory and got them back. Max WAS the same Max who met that Chloe and helped her get her memory back. She also, judging from the blue butterfly in that last chapter, got her powers back. Which means, maybe, she figured out why Chloe exists, and how. Maybe she and Chloe knew about it all along. Maybe Chloe's ready to accept a new Max. Or, possibly, since Max is omnipotent... Maybe she still remembers everything. Maybe everything came back to her, both her memories from the old dimension where she was missing Chloe, and the new dimension where she got Chloe back. Either way, these guys have a happy ending, alright? Because I will never write a fic where they don't get the happy ending they deserve.

God, I love Life is Strange. I love Pricefield. Lord, help me.

**10 – Any parting words to say to your readers?**

Yeah. Y'all are weird as fuck to still be reading this.

But I'm SO happy to be proud of this supportive community, and to have people like you read my story. Knowing y'all like it brings me an immeasurable amount of happiness, and shit, I'll forever be grateful.

I just hope I didn't scar you too much with this endnote.

Uh... I probably did.

I'll leave now.

Bye bye.

 

**Author's Note:**

> There's gonna be a lot of reference to the original game. Because y'know, memories. :D


End file.
